


The Semblance of Peace

by Maeglin_Yedi



Series: The Peace Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Blow Jobs, Coercion, Eventual Happy Ending, First Time, HP: EWE, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Mindfuck, Minor Character Death, Possession, Possessive Tom Riddle, Post-War, Sane Tom Riddle, Sane Voldemort, Severus Snape Lives, Threesome - M/M/M, harry potter is in deep shit, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 62,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeglin_Yedi/pseuds/Maeglin_Yedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort is finally dead, or so the wizarding world believes. Unfortunately, Harry knows better.</p>
<p>Non-compliant with DH (written and first published in 2006)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Harry/Voldemort, Harry/Tom, Harry/Voldemort/Snape, other minor pairings (het and slash)  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Warnings: manipulation, mind-fucking, dubious consent, minor character death  
> Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and everyone else you recognize in this story. 
> 
> Summary: Voldemort is finally dead, or so the wizarding world believes. Unfortunately, Harry knows better.
> 
> A/N: Written for the HP Reversathon, for Ziasudra, who asked for Harry/Voldemort and Harry/Tom, a post-war dystopia, featuring OutForOwnGood!Voldemort and TryingToSaveWorld!Harry, coexistence becoming a battle of wills, complicated manipulation, psychological tension, fights for dominance, unwillingness to compromise, dark humor, and dubious consent. Possibly a mention of the giant squid. *g*
> 
> Thanks to my beta readers, Regan V, Ella Bane, Snapetoy, and GMTH. And thanks to the lovely Llama for being so patient with me. 
> 
> Word count:: ~ 62800  
> First published: August 2006

"Harry? Can you hear us?"

It sounded like Hermione, if Hermione were talking through a metal pipe at the other end of the room. 

Wait, what room? 

"Harry?"

There was light now, filtering through the cracks his tired eyelids made. Harry wasn't sure where he was or what was going on, just that there had been darkness before. Now there was light. He supposed it was an improvement. 

"Look, his eyes!" Still the strangely distorted Hermione, though now more voices echoed around him, all talking about his eyes for some reason he didn't understand. 

A hand was touching his hand, he could feel that. It squeezed, and he squeezed back as hard as he could. It wasn't very hard, but still enough to trigger a squeak from whomever was touching him. It sounded like Ginny.

"Oh God, Harry. Yes, come on, open your eyes."

Hermione's words were enough to make his body obey. Harry's eyes fell open, and for a moment he was blinded. So much light. So white. Then blurry shapes came into view, and the next thing he knew was a weight leaning on him and Hermione's bushy hair tickling his face. Her weight was replaced with Ginny's, who still smelled like flowers. She placed a small kiss on the corner of Harry's mouth. It felt strangely dry. 

"Harry, can you hear us now?" That was Ron, and Harry managed to turn his head and see the figure of his best friend standing at the side of his bed. 

Wait, his bed?

"You're in St Mungo's," Hermione said. She kept stroking his arm, as though afraid if she stopped she might lose him again. 

But she hadn't lost him, had she?

"Wha-" Harry couldn't force more than that tiny sound past his vocal chords. Everything -- his throat, his tongue, his lips -- felt useless.

"Here, drink something." Ginny pressed a glass against his lips and water trickled down Harry's throat. It was the best thing he'd ever tasted. Sweet and clear, and Harry moaned when she took the glass away. "You can't have too much at once, sorry."

"Do you remember the battle at Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked. Harry managed a crooked nod, his chin falling to his chest. "You faced Voldemort. You killed him, Harry. But he hit you with something. We're not quite sure what it was, not even the healers here were able to give you a proper diagnosis --"

"What she's trying to say," Ron interrupted. Harry could hear the grin in his voice. "You were in a coma for the last four weeks."

"Three-and-a-half," Ginny said, squeezing his hand again. 

He'd been in a coma? He didn't remember any of that. He remembered the battle, he remembered facing Voldemort on the hills outside Hogsmeade in the fading light of dusk. He remembered casting a Killing Curse. And then things got a bit foggy. 

A coma, apparently.

"Mr Potter. Glad to see you are finally awake." This new voice came from a woman Harry didn't recognize, but her green robes told him she was probably a healer. "If you would please give us a few moments," she said to Harry's friends. "I'll make sure he's all right."

His friends left the room, and Harry lay quietly as the healer performed spell after spell. 

He'd been in a coma. But Voldemort was dead. Well, that was worth a whole lot more than sleeping for a couple of weeks. 

By the time the healer was done and wrote down a list of potions he needed to take, Harry managed a smile.

*--*--*

"And Neville was hospitalized for a few days, but the healers here cured him completely," Hermione said. "He'll visit you soon, I'm sure."

Harry nodded at her. He was pleased to hear most of his friends had made it out of the battle alive. Only Moody had been killed, sadly. And plenty of Death Eaters, though Harry felt far less sorry for that. 

He was sitting up now, after a night of real sleep. All his functions were returning to him. His eyes were all right, though he still needed his glasses, of course. His voice sounded like himself. And his eye-hand coordination had vastly improved; he could drink from a glass of water without spilling a drop. 

"What about Snape?" he asked. He'd wanted to take out Snape himself that evening in Hogsmeade, but he hadn't found the man, and Voldemort had been more important. 

Hermione cleared her throat. "There are some things you don't know yet," she said, and she sounded apologetic. Harry was sure he wasn't going to like whatever he didn't know. "There has been a trial, and Snape had evidence Dumbledore had given him. Pensieve memories and a written testimony."

"What happened to him?" Harry asked, getting impatient now. "Please tell me he's at least been sentenced to life in Azkaban?"

"He's been acquitted of all charges." Hermione stared down at her hands, and Harry looked at Ron and Ginny, silently pleading them to tell him Hermione was joking. 

She had to be joking. 

"Dumbledore made Snape kill him," Ginny said. She sounded far less apologetic, though she wouldn't meet Harry's eyes. "With an Unbreakable Vow. Snape had no choice in it."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Harry said. "I was there! He killed Dumbledore!"

"He did," Ron said with a solemn nod. "But Dumbledore was already dying. The curse that blackened his hand was slowly killing him. He wouldn't have lived past the summer."

Harry looked down. He felt drowsy all of a sudden and his head ached, as if he'd spent a day under the scorching sun instead of four weeks in a coma. 

"Snape was on Dumbledore's side all along?" His voice was a whisper, but it still sounded cold. So cold a chill ran down his back. 

"He was. All the information Shacklebolt had on the last two Horcruxes? It came from Snape." Hermione was rubbing her own arm now, looking uncomfortable. "Apparently Shacklebolt was the only one who knew, or rather found out, about Snape's true allegiance. Without that information you wouldn't have found those Horcruxes."

"I know that!" Harry snapped. The force behind his own voice made him recoil. "Well, fuck."

"No one's really happy about this," Ron said with a shrug. "But they couldn't convict him for doing something he was forced into. Something Dumbledore himself wanted."

"Right," Harry said unconvincingly. He was imagining Snape jerking at his feet under a Cruciatus Curse. He sagged back in the pillows. 

"We should probably go," Hermione said. "You need to rest. We'll be back tomorrow."

"All right," Harry sighed. He was getting tired. His body wasn't used yet to being awake a whole day. He got a kiss on his cheek from Hermione and Ginny, Ron patted him on his shoulder, and then the room was quiet and Harry was left with his thoughts. 

"Fucking Snape," he muttered, his eyes drooping shut as he made himself as comfortable as he could under the hospital sheets. 

_"That filthy traitor."_

"Yeah. Fucking traitor."

_"He deserves to die for what he did to us."_

"Yeah," Harry said, again seeing Snape bloodied and broken at his feet.

_"We must kill that traitor."_

"Yeah – what?" Harry snapped his eyes open and looked around the room. It was empty. 

Had there been a voice just now? He was sure he'd heard something. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. He was awfully tired. 

Sleep would help, he was sure of it. 

Harry closed his eyes again. Yes, he wanted to see Snape dead. But he wasn't actually going to kill Snape if he'd been acquitted. That made Harry himself a criminal, and Harry had no desire to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. 

Besides, Voldemort was dead. That was the most important thing, Harry told himself. Voldemort was dead for good. 

Rich laughter echoed through Harry's head right before sleep captured him.

*--*--*

A week after Harry had woken up from his coma, he stepped out of the fireplace at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley pressed him to her bosom, and Mr Weasley shook his hand so hard Harry was worried his arm would pop out of its socket.

"We're having a big dinner to celebrate. Everyone's coming," Mrs Weasley said, returning to the stove where she stirred several pots and pans. 

"And Minerva sent word," Mr Weasley said, taking Harry's trunk from him. "You three are welcome to start your seventh year this September first. Hogwarts is reopening."

Hermione beamed. "That's only two more weeks."

Groaning, Ron tugged on Harry's sleeve. "Come on, you're staying in my room. Let's get you settled in."

Ron hauled Harry's trunk up the stairs, and once inside Ron's room, Harry unpacked a few clothes while Ron rattled on about something the twins had done to Bill's house a few days before.

It was good to be able to pay attention to mindless things again after a year of chasing pieces of Voldemort's soul around the country. It was more than good to know he could now finally start a life that was his own instead of having to fear Voldemort or live up to everyone else's expectations. 

His life was his own now, and Harry planned on making good use of it.

"What are you smiling about?" Ron asked, giving him a dubious look. 

"Nothing," Harry said, his smile morphing into a grin. "Everything."

*--*--*

"Meet me in my room when Ron's asleep," Ginny whispered in his ear by the time people got up from the dinner table.

Harry, who'd been listening to something Lupin was telling, knocked over his glass of pumpkin juice. Ginny giggled, and Harry grinned at her as he performed a cleaning charm. 

Mrs Weasley hadn't been lying when she said everyone was coming for dinner. Lupin and Tonks were seated across from Harry, Shacklebolt was discussing something to do with the Ministry with Mr Weasley, Bill was arguing with the twins about their latest so-called prank, Fleur and Hermione were having a deep conversation about NEWTs, and Mrs Weasley started sending empty dishes and pans to the kitchen.

The only ones not there were Charlie, who was still in Romania, and Percy, who had yet to make amends with his family.

When the table was empty, Harry got up as well. Bill gave him a slap on his shoulder, the twins offered him a bag of their latest merchandise, and Tonks gave him a hug. 

"Don't be a stranger, Harry," Lupin said, shaking his hand. 

Shacklebolt was next. "So, can I expect you at my department at the end of this school year?"

"I'm thinking about it," Harry said, and he shook Kingsley's large hand. 

"Off to bed with you." Mrs Weasley ushered Harry and his friends inside and up the stairs. 

Harry followed Ron into his room, feeling sated and anxious all at once. Ron got into his pajamas and was asleep almost as soon as his head hit his pillow. Harry got into his pajamas as well, and sat on his bed with a pounding heart, waiting until the noise outside Ron's bedroom door died down. 

After having counted to a hundred several times, Harry got up and tiptoed out of Ron's room, across the narrow hall, and into Ginny's room. 

"Hey," Ginny said. She was sitting up in her bed, with only the small lamp on her bedside table illuminating the room. 

"Hullo." Harry closed the door behind him, and Ginny gave the mattress a pat, inviting Harry to join her. He did, though he sat a small distance away from her. He was nervous, as was expected, since he and Ginny hadn't actually been together in her bedroom before like this. 

Ginny was wearing a white nightgown with little yellow flowers, and she pulled it over her head to reveal skin that looked creamy even in the dim light. She took Harry's hand and placed it over her breast. Harry sighed as he touched the soft curve, and he shifted closer and closer, until Ginny leaned back and let Harry crawl half on top of her. 

His mouth found Ginny's, and Harry trailed his hand down Ginny's warm belly until his fingers touched the cotton of her underwear. 

_"I don't like redheads."_

Blinking his eyes open, Harry stared down at Ginny's flushed face. "What?"

"I don't like redheads." Harry's eyes widened when he heard his own voice speaking words he wasn't thinking. 

"What?" Ginny asked with a frown. 

"Nothing." Harry sat up, shifting a bit to hide his obvious erection caught in his pajama bottoms. 

_"Besides, I do prefer my own gender. I have no desire to sit through your pathetic attempts at intercourse with a woman, Harry."_

Harry drew back as if Ginny had burned him and promptly fell off the bed. 

"What's wrong?" Ginny sat up and reached for her nightgown. 

"Nothing." Harry thought frantically. He was hearing voices. He was going insane. 

_"Hardly."_

There! There it was. Harry stared at Ginny as if hoping she had the answer, but Ginny stared right back at him as she held her nightgown in front of her naked breasts. 

"I'm sorry," Harry said, fumbling to his feet. "I think...er...the coma...I'm not quite my old self yet."

"Oh." Ginny looked down, and Harry heard the disappointment in her voice. It made him wince. 

_"Stop being so melodramatic, Harry."_

He was definitely going insane. He needed to get out of there. 

_"Finally, a decent decision."_

"I'm sorry," Harry said again, and rushed out of Ginny's room. He walked down the stairs, even though he really wanted to run, and in the kitchen he burst out of the back door and into the night. He didn't stop but kept running and running until the Burrow was a distant shadow and he was out of breath. 

The pond looked almost black against the dark-blue sky, and Harry stared at the still water as he inhaled deep breaths. 

There was something in his head. Someone. 

"Who are you?" Harry said. His voice sounded small in the darkness around him. "What's going on?"

_"Harry, you disappoint me. Surely you have figured it out by now."_

That voice wasn't coming out of his mouth this time. It was in his head. 

"It's not exactly a difficult riddle."

Harry's mouth dropped open right after it had once again spoken words that weren't his own. What had it said? It wasn't a -- 

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. 

_"Come now, Harry."_

"No, I killed you."

_"You tried."_

"I destroyed your Horcruxes. All of them."

Laughter tickled Harry's mind. It made him squirm. And then a sharp flare of pain burned his forehead, pain he'd thought he'd never feel again. Harry sank to his knees and clutched at his head. 

"You can't be in here!"

_"Really?"_

"You can't possess me for very long. Dumbledore said so!" The pain ebbed away and Harry looked up, half expecting Voldemort to stand there. But there was only darkness. 

_"Ah, yes, I can see everything Dumbledore has told you about me. But you are not the same boy you were two years ago."_

"Huh?" Harry blinked and let himself fall onto his arse. He was too numb to stand up. 

_"You are a killer now, Harry Potter. A murderer."_

"How can I be a murderer when I didn't actually kill you?"

A snicker made Harry's eyes twitch. _"A Killing Curse separates the soul from the body, and that constitutes murder. No matter my soul is still here, safely inside of you."_

Harry's stomach turned over and over, and he threw up his dinner right there in the grass. 

_"Your own soul is split. Your own mind has darkness in it now. You are tainted. And perfectly suited to be my host for the time being."_

He had to tell someone! Hermione, she'd know what to do. 

_"Don't be stupid. What do you think people will do once they find out you are Lord Voldemort? Azkaban, surely, or perhaps even the Kiss to suck both our souls out."_

That was it! He could drown himself in the pond right there and then. Kill himself, and Voldemort would be -- 

_"Harry, think! You kill yourself and I find a new host. Oh, that little girlfriend of yours is already quite familiar with my soul, isn't she?"_

"Don't you fucking dare!" Harry found enough strength to jump up to this feet. "Don't you dare go anywhere near Ginny!"

_"How sad that you'll have to break up with your little sweetheart then to keep me from her."_

Shit. He hadn't actually considered that part yet. If he went anywhere near Ginny now, he was carrying Voldemort along for the ride. His stomach turned again, but it was empty this time. 

_"Let's make a deal. You don't do anything rash and stupid, and I won't go anywhere near those dear friends of yours."_

"I'm not making deals with you!"

_"Why don't I go visit your girlfriend right now. What will you do about it? Kill her? Tell the authorities? I'm sure she won't mind spending her life in Azkaban."_

Fuck. _Fuck._ Harry kicked at the grass, though what he really wanted to do was throttle someone. Voldemort could possess anyone he wanted, any of Harry's friends, like he'd done Quirrell. "Fine. We'll make that deal," Harry said. Besides, he could always tell Hermione anyway and get her to find a way to exorcise Voldemort. 

_"Already thinking of betraying me, Harry?"_

"You can hear anything I think, can't you?" Harry asked, even though he already knew the answer. 

_"Smart boy. I can see all your thoughts, all your memories. You have no idea how much I have enjoyed spending these past few weeks in your mind, going through each and every detail while you slept the days away."_

Harry hung his head. For the first time in his life, he felt truly defeated.

*--*--*

As he made his way back to the Burrow, Harry knew exactly what to do. No, that wasn't quite true. He knew exactly what not to do.

He couldn't tell anyone. He had no doubt Ron and Hermione would stick by him and try to find a solution, but he wasn't so sure about everyone else. He couldn't imagine Lupin or Shacklebolt or even Mr Weasley being that patient once they found out Harry had Voldemort living in his head. 

And Ginny... well, he didn't want to put Ginny through the horrid ordeal she had to live through in his second year. He wasn't sure how she was going to react once she discovered Harry was possessed. 

Maybe he could tell Ron and Hermione – no, Voldemort would go after them. 

A satisfied chuckle echoed through his mind as he opened the door and slipped inside the dark kitchen. 

Which was also the reason he couldn't stay at the Burrow. He didn't want to put his friends in danger. He'd been dealing with Voldemort all his life. He could handle it. 

_"You are very sure of yourself, aren't you, Harry?"_

"Shut up," Harry muttered. He walked up the stairs without a sound to Ron's room, where he packed his clothes into his trunk and shrunk it. Then he went downstairs again. He found parchment and a quill on the mantle and penned down a quick note. 

 

_Sorry to leave like this, but everything has been a bit overwhelming. I need some time to rest and think about things. I'm all right, don't worry. Owl me if you have any questions._

_Harry_

 

He left it on the kitchen table, and used the fireplace to floo to Grimmauld Place. Once the green flames died down, Harry stood in the darkness of the basement kitchen, unsure what to do next. He realized he was still in his pajamas, his shrunken trunk in his hand, and decided he might as well go to bed and try to come up with a solution tomorrow. 

Voldemort was oddly quiet, and for a moment Harry thought perhaps the Fidelius Charm which was still active on the old house had kept him out. 

_"Think again."_

Then again, perhaps not. A quick Lumos later, and Harry found his way upstairs, to his bedroom, the one he'd used since the previous summer, when he'd used the house as his base for hunting Horcruxes. 

Inside his bedroom, Harry lit the lamp on his nightstand with a flick of his wand, and enlarged his trunk at the foot of his bed. He sighed and lay down on the cool sheets, wand still in his hand. He rested it on his belly and stared at the ceiling. 

"What do you want?" he asked.

_"Besides world domination?"_

Despite the trouble he was in, Harry snickered. Or perhaps in spite of it. A part of him felt tight with nervousness, another part of him was angry enough to want to hurt someone, and yet another part just wanted to laugh at the complete absurdity of it all. 

"Yes, besides the obvious."

_"I think the answer should be obvious, Harry. I want my body back."_

"Sorry, I think the last one was burned to ashes a couple of weeks ago," Harry said, and grinned. "Perhaps you should be more careful with your bodies. You keep losing them."

 _"Perhaps you should be more careful what you say to me, child. I can still hurt you."_ And to demonstrate his point, a flare of pain exploded from Harry's scar. 

"Fuck! Stop that!" Harry squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his forehead. 

_"Address me with proper respect, and I'll gladly leave your scar alone."_

"The day I treat you with proper respect, is the day the Chudley Cannons take home the National Quidditch Cup." More pain burned through his mind, and Harry yanked his glasses off so he could press his palms over his eyes as he gritted his teeth. "Fine! I get the point! Just tell me what you expect me to do. You need my blood? Do you want me to go to that graveyard and help perform that ritual again?"

_"For now, all I need from you is to be my host."_

"Great," Harry muttered. He turned on his side and placed his wand on his nightstand. "How long is 'for now'?"

_"Until I think of a way to regain my body."_

"And you think I'll just play along with this? You think I'll let you get your body back?"

_"Certainly. Your only other choice is to live with me for the rest of your life."_

Harry shuddered at the idea of being stuck with Voldemort until he was old and gray. No, he didn't want Voldemort to get his body back. But on the other hand, Harry wanted a proper life of his own, and he knew that was impossible with Voldemort possessing his body. Then again, he wouldn't have a normal life if Voldemort got his body back, either. 

_"There is no winning this, Harry. It is best if you just accept that."_

"Right," Harry sighed, though he had no intention of ever accepting it. There had to be a way out of this without allowing Voldemort --

_"I wonder what your pretty little girlfriend is doing now. She must be heartbroken after the way you ran out on her tonight. Perhaps she'd like a little company."_

"Stop it!" Harry curled his fingers around his pillow, grasping so hard his hand ached. He couldn't plot a way to get rid of Voldemort. He couldn't tell anyone. He couldn't do or even think anything without Voldemort knowing each and every detail. 

_"Like I said, it is best to just accept it."_

"Never," Harry whispered, and turned off the light. "Now shut up and let me sleep."

_"Good night, Harry."_

"Good night, Tom," Harry said with an inward smirk. A small spark of pain flared up around his scar, but it was nothing compared to the pain he'd felt earlier. Perhaps Voldemort was tired, too. 

_"I am tired. Now stop thinking so I can get some sleep."_

"You sleep when you're like this?"

_"Obviously."_

Harry reached for the sheets and pulled them up to his chin, nestling his face deeper into his pillow. He had Voldemort stuck inside him. It was a bizarre notion, and if he thought about it too long he wanted to go take a scalding shower and scrub himself clean, but he was too tired to move. He concentrated as best he could with his mind drifting half-way to sleep and tried to feel Voldemort inside him, like he were some parasite curling inside his brain. He sensed nothing, only his own deep breathing and his own thoughts keeping him awake.

"How come I can't feel you?"

_"We can talk more tomorrow. Go to sleep."_

"Maybe I'm really just going mad, and this is me imagining I have Voldemort inside of me." Harry felt the sensation of a suffering sigh breeze through him. It made him grin.

*--*--*

When he woke, Harry experienced one magnificent moment of peace as his mind tried to reel in all recent events. He had defeated Voldemort. He was a free man. He could finally do --

_"Good morning, Harry."_

Harry buried his face in his pillow and contemplated tearing it to bits with his teeth. 

_"Such drama first thing in the morning."_

Inhaling a deep breath, Harry sat up and stared at the curtains covering the window. There was light behind them. Had he actually slept through the night? Odd. He'd expected to toss and turn for hours, knowing he had Voldemort stuck in his head. 

_"And let you ruin my rest? Surely not."_

"What?" Harry swung his legs over the side of his bed and rubbed a hand across his face. "What's your rest got to do with anything? It's still my body."

_"But of course."_

Harry frowned. He didn't trust Voldemort's sudden agreement one bit. "Wait. You made me sleep through the night? And the coma? That was you as well, wasn't it?"

_"I merely needed some time to sort through your mind, Harry. Put my own thoughts in order and decide how to proceed."_

"You kept me in a coma for four fucking weeks because you needed time to think?" Harry jumped up and wished he could hit Voldemort. But he had no intention of hitting himself, so instead he kicked against the desk chair.

_"Three-and-a-half weeks."_

Harry released a strangled scream, and stomped inside his bathroom. He yanked off his pajamas and got into the shower, turning the water on so hot it came close to scalding his skin. He rested both hands against the tiled wall, lowering his head so he could let the water pound on his neck and back. 

"Why couldn't you just die, you fucker."

No reply came, and Harry raised his head, blinking his eyes against the water running down from his forehead. 

"Oh, now you keep quiet, you miserable bastard."

A nasty twinge shot through his head, but Harry ignored it. He reached for the shampoo and poured enough for a small army on his hair. God, but he needed to get clean. The idea of having Voldemort inside him, inside his head, his flesh, his bones, made his skin crawl. 

"I was supposed to be done with this," he muttered, rubbing furiously at his hair, suds flying everywhere. "I was supposed to have a nice, long holiday before finally moving on with my life."

_"No one is keeping you from having a holiday."_

"Besides the maniac inside my head!" Another flash of pain burst from his scar, and Harry gritted his teeth.

 

_"Go have your holiday, Harry. I certainly won't keep you from it."_

"But you won't piss off, either."

_"Not until I have worked everything out, no."_

Sighing, Harry rinsed his hair. He reached for the soap and ran it across his chest down to his groin. Well, there went his morning wank. There was no way he was touching that part of himself with Voldemort watching. 

_"Such modesty. Though I certainly won't demand celibacy. Please, go right ahead."_

Harry felt a little sick at the thought of sharing an orgasm with the likes of Voldemort. He quickly turned off the water and dried himself off. He refused to even look at his dick, knowing Voldemort would see it too, even when he positioned himself in front of the toilet to take a piss. 

"You know what?" he said as he tried to tame his hair in front of the mirror. "I am going to have a holiday. You're not going to stop me from doing the things I planned to do."

 _"I wouldn't dream of it."_ The mock-honest tone of Voldemort's voice made Harry shiver. He brushed his teeth, and then hurried to find some clothes to cover his body.

 _"Might I suggest a visit to an old friend of ours to start off this holiday?"_

Harry narrowed his eyes as he slipped into his trainers. "Who?"

_"Snape. I'd like to have a word with him."_

"No!" Harry fumbled with the laces, his hands suddenly trembling. "No, no, and no. We're not going to see Snape just so you can torture his arse."

_"Ah, but doesn't our traitor deserve a spot of the Cruciatus?"_

"So Aurors can throw my arse into Azkaban just because you want revenge? Again, I say no. And you can't make me."

The silence that followed confirmed that Voldemort most likely couldn't make him do anything, for which Harry was grateful. He needed to figure out how much control Voldemort did have over him. And until he did, he couldn't see any of his friends. The idea of Voldemort forcing Harry to hurt Hermione or Ron or Ginny or anyone else was enough to make his stomach turn. 

Harry made his way down to the kitchen. Voldemort could control his sleep, and his scar, and sometimes, his voice. But not his body. That was something, at least. 

_"You didn't disagree."_

"Huh?" Harry carried cornflakes and milk to the kitchen table. 

_"You didn't disagree that Severus deserves to be tortured."_ Voldemort sounded quite pleased with himself. 

"No comment." Harry poured cornflakes in a bowl, and drowned them with milk. 

A satisfied chuckle echoed through his mind. _"Ah, but I can see here that you'd love to see dear Severus writhe in agony. What a pleasant little fantasy, Harry. I didn't know you had it in you to dream of torturing a helpless man."_

"Snape's hardly helpless," Harry said in between bites of cornflakes.

_"Oh, but he will be once I get my hands on him."_

"I think you mean _my_ hands."

_"Indeed."_

"In your dreams."

_"And yours, Harry. Such glorious, dark dreams."_

Harry pushed his bowl of cornflakes away. He'd suddenly lost his appetite.

*--*--*

_"So where is this holiday of yours taking us?_

Harry shrugged. "Not sure yet. We'll see." He checked for his wallet and wand, and pulled the front door closed. "I just want to do normal things. All the things I've never been able to do because you were after me."

_"And now you get to do them with me. Imagine that."_

"Yeah, imagine that," Harry said. He squared his shoulders, again determined to not let Voldemort's presence ruin his plans. He'd ruined enough already. Harry was going to have his summer of doing normal things, and if Voldemort didn't like it, he could just fuck off.

Harry stopped at the first corner store he could find and bought a Muggle tourist guide to London. While he'd been to London enough times – and he even lived there now – he'd never seen much of it. Besides the trip to the London Zoo with the Dursleys when he was eleven, but Harry rather didn't think of them at all. 

_"Do tell."_

"Why?" Harry asked. He stood outside the shop, paging through the tourist guide. 

_"It saves me the trouble of shifting through your mind until I find the memory."_

Sighing, Harry closed the book, and recalled how the Dursleys had dragged him along against their will. An involuntary smile tugged on his lips. "I talked to a snake that day," he said. "I didn't even know I was a wizard yet."

_"And they punished you for it, didn't they? Your family?"_

"So you've found my memory after all."

_"No, I merely know what Muggles are like."_

Harry decided not to comment on that and opened the guide again. "This looks interesting. The Natural History Museum."

_"A Muggle museum? A sure way to waste your money."_

"Actually, it says that the entry is free." Harry answered Voldemort's snort with a grin, and then smiled when he found a handy map of the London Underground in the back of the guide. "South Kensington station," he muttered to himself, closed the guide and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans. 

_"You're taking the tube? You're a wizard. Apparate!"_

"We're going to a Muggle destination. If you don't like the tube, why don't you just go find someone else to bother?"

The twinge of pain in his scar was worth it, Harry told himself, and he went looking for the nearest station.

*--*--*

_"They are bones. Very old bones. Honestly, Harry, even Muggles must have something more interesting on display than this."_

"They're dinosaurs," Harry whispered, staring up into the impressive mouth of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. "They're interesting."

_"They're extinct."_

"Exactly."

_"This is your idea of a holiday? Staring at bones from dead animals?"_

"It's more than what you managed to leave behind." Harry was unprepared for the surge of pain that followed, and he doubled over, clutching at his head. 

"Are you all right?" a woman standing some distance away asked. 

"Fine, thanks. Just a migraine," Harry said, righting himself. He quickly found a secluded corner and took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "Don't bloody well do that when we're in public."

_"Keep your tongue in check, and I will leave your scar alone."_

"Look, this is my holiday and I want to see this museum. " Harry slid his glasses back on, heaving an exhausted sigh. Having Voldemort provide running commentary on everything he did proved very tiresome.

_"Very well, if you let me choose this afternoon's entertainment."_

"What part of this is _my_ holiday didn't you understand?"

_"The part where you're dragging me along to inane Muggle museums."_

"Not my fault. You can bugger off whenever you want."

_"Ah yes, I suppose I could spend the afternoon getting reacquainted with your pretty little girlfriend."_

"Don't you fucking dare!" Harry flinched when his voice echoed around the hall and several heads turned his way. He managed an apologetic smile, and pondered the idea of getting one of those mobile phones so he could at least pretend to be talking to someone else.

_"The book. Open it to where you found this Muggle monstrosity."_

Harry opened the guide and found the correct page. He frowned as he tried to figure out what Voldemort wanted. 

_"There. The museum at the bottom. It sounds far more interesting than looking at extinct animals all day."_

"The London Dungeon? Brings more than 2,000 years of gruesomely authentic history vividly back to life and death? Are you kidding me?" Harry slapped the guide shut. "I'm not going to some torture museum."

_"Why ever not? They have a display on Jack the Ripper."_

"What the hell do you want with Jack the Ripper?"

 _"I grew up in the East End, as you well know, Harry."_ A warmth filled Harry, as though Voldemort was remembering something exceptionally pleasant. _"I used to tell bedtime stories of Jack the Ripper to the younger boys at the orphanage. It never failed to scare them witless."_

"Oh, you would," Harry muttered. This whole idea of finally having his well-earned holiday had turned out to be a farce. He was stuck with Voldemort, no matter how hard he tried to pretend he wasn't. He had to find a way to get rid of Voldemort, but Voldemort was right fucking there -- 

_"Stop it."_

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. It was suddenly hard to breathe and he itched to hold his wand, though he didn't know why. 

_"The only choice I am going giving you is this. Either you take me to see Severus this afternoon, or we go to this torture museum."_

"We're not going to see Snape," Harry said. His voice sounded raw, as if he was bleeding on the inside. As if Voldemort's presence made his body rot and fester. Any moment now, his flesh would fall off his bones in great decaying strips --

_"Pull yourself together, Harry! It won't do either of us any good for you to lose your sanity. Accept what is and stop wishing for the impossible!"_

Harry sucked in a deep breath. "We'll go to that museum," he said. How could he feel so empty when Voldemort was inside him? "But we're not done here yet. I get the morning here."

_"Agreed."_

It was his body. His fucking holiday. He shouldn't have to compromise with Voldemort on anything. And yet there he was, debating Muggle museums with his worst enemy. Harry shook his head and strolled back to the dinosaurs on display. 

"It's got big teeth," he said, hoping to at least stir off more critique from Voldemort. He liked the Tyrannosaurus Rex. It was hard to imagine something that big and powerful had once roamed the earth. Well, if you didn't count dragons, that was. Voldemort remained silent, so Harry tried again. "I bet it was a really good killer."

"Yeah, he's wicked, isn't he?" a boy on his right said, eyes alight as he looked up at Harry with a wide grin. 

"Yeah," Harry agreed with a weak smile.

*--*--*

Harry hated to admit it, but The London Dungeon was actually interesting. He learned a lot about the great plague and the great fire of London, and even the special display on Jack the Ripper was intriguing, in a disturbing sort of way.

Voldemort certainly seemed to be enjoying himself, which meant he was mostly quiet and left Harry to his own thoughts as he strolled through the museum.

 _"And people claim Muggles are all innocence,"_ Voldemort said as they stared at a display of a caged rat eating its way through a man's belly. _"I certainly never used such barbaric tactics when -- "_

"You killed my parents, you fucking bastard!" Harry whispered harshly. "Don't you dare go claiming you're a godsend compared to whatever Muggles did centuries ago!"

_"Your parents' deaths were unfortunate, but at least I made it quick and painless."_

"Don't," Harry said through gritted teeth. "Don't go making excuses for what you did to my parents and me." He turned on his heels, bumped into a few tourists, and marched to the nearest exit. "We're done here," he said. Voldemort didn't object, but Harry knew that in this case his silence meant nothing.

*--*--*

Having dinner at a McDonalds hadn't gone over well with Voldemort, much to Harry's amusement. If he couldn't kick the bastard out, he could sure as hell annoy the stuffing out of him with trivial Muggle customs. Harry chomped down a Big Mac and a large serving of fries, and then took the tube to Leicester Square, taking occasional slurps from his Coke.

_"What's our purpose here?"_

"We're going to see a movie," Harry said. He kept his head down as he navigated his way through crowds of tourists and locals, all looking for a good time. Voldemort gave a loud snort that made Harry's lips twitch. 

_"Honestly. At least there is some educational value in visiting a museum, even a Muggle one, but a movie? A complete waste of our time."_

"This will be educational. Based on a true story. You'll like it. Lots of people die." Harry took another sip of his coke and stopped under a tree across from the Odeon. "It's about the Titanic. It's this big ship that -- "

_"I do know what the Titanic is. I'm not a complete idiot."_

Harry snickered. "Well, it's a Muggle thing. I figured you might have repressed it."

_"Know your enemy, Harry. Never repress them."_

"Yeah, sure," Harry said without much conviction. He drank the last of his Coke and deposited the paper cup in a nearby rubbish bin. "Remember, my holiday. I was planning to see this movie with my friends – Hermione has been babbling about seeing it for a while – but since I'm now stuck with you, you'll have to suffer through it."

 _"And suffer I will, no doubt."_ Harry felt a peculiar sensation, as if Voldemort squared his shoulders inside him. _"Very well. We shall go and see this movie. Seeing hundreds of Muggles die in icy waters might be entertaining after all."_

Sighing, Harry got in line to buy a ticket.

*--*--*

_"It proves nothing, other than that love will turn you into a complete imbecile and make you drop a fortune into the ocean when you're old and senile."_

Harry chuckled. He'd liked the movie just fine, though the romantic bits had been lost on him. Perhaps Hermione would have appreciated them more, and maybe Ginny, too. Harry thought the whole romance had seemed a bit odd on a ship that was sinking. 

_"See? Even you can't help but agree with me. Love makes one weak. They could have saved themselves had they not been so strung up on saving each other."_

Harry considered that as he got onto the tube. They didn't talk during the ride home, as there were too many others around them, and that gave Harry the perfect opportunity to gather his thoughts. Would Sirius have lived if he hadn't been so strung up on saving him? Probably. But Harry had loved Sirius and not saving him hadn't been an option. If he hadn't loved Sirius, wouldn't he have tried to save him? 

Harry wasn't sure. He'd saved Ginny in his second year and he sure as hell hadn't loved her back then. What was it Hermione had said about him? He had a saving people thing. 

_"Yes, you do. And it's your biggest weakness, in case you hadn't come to that conclusion yet."_

"Well, excuse me for not being a complete egotist," Harry said, exiting the tube. His legs felt like stone as he took the steps up to the street. It had been a long day, and Voldemort there as a constant companion had made it seem even longer. 

_"A certain amount of egotism goes a long way in keeping oneself alive."_

"It was just a Muggle movie. I doubt it was meant to offer any philosophical answers."

_"Then it was a waste of our time, just as I had predicted."_

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad. It's just entertainment. You wanted to know about your enemy? Now you know what their movies look like." It was a weak argument, but it was all Harry could come up with. He yawned, quickly covering his mouth with his hand. 

_"I have been to a cinema before, I'll have you know."_

"Really?" Harry took out his wand and tapped it against the front door. "When? What movie?"

_"In my youth. They took us to see Snow White."_

"You mean the Disney movie?" Harry shut the door behind him and flicked on a few gas lamps with his wand. "With the singing dwarfs and everything?"

_"Unfortunately, yes. The original fairy tale is far more interesting than -- "_

Harry's bellowing laughter cut Voldemort off. The idea of Voldemort watching Snow White was too much for Harry, and he had to lean a hand against the wall to keep his balance. 

"Harry? Is that you?"

Closing his mouth, Harry stared in the direction of the kitchen. His heart hammered in his chest. That was Hermione's voice, and hearing it made Harry want to flee. His friends couldn't see him like this. He couldn't see his friends, because if Voldemort did --

_"Oh, hush, child. I'll behave myself if you will. That was our agreement, I believe"_

Harry didn't trust Voldemort, but he had no time to come up with a better plan because Hermione appeared in the hallway, giving him a confused look. "Where have you been all day? We've sent two owls, and we've been here all evening."

"I was out," Harry said. He approached her, legs stiff and shoulders tense. "I needed to clear my mind."

"Well, come on. We've got tea in the kitchen. We can talk there." Hermione descended the steps to the basement kitchen. Harry followed her down, and his heart sank when he saw Ron and Ginny sitting at the kitchen table. 

"Hey, Harry," Ron said. Ginny kept quiet and gave Harry an uncertain glance. 

"Hi." Harry stood at the head of the table and stared at his friends while Hermione poured him a cup of tea. This was his chance! "Listen, this is important! Voldemort's not -- " Harry snapped his mouth shut when he realized his wand was in his hand, and he couldn't remember reaching for it. 

_"Two words, Harry. The Killing Curse has two words I can easily force from your lips."_

Harry tried to loosen his fingers, but they stayed glued around his wand. If he could drop it, he'd have time to --

_"The lives of your friends are in your hand. I will not hesitate to end them if you betray me."_

"What about Voldemort?" Hermione asked, taking a seat beside Ron. 

Swallowing, Harry stared at her. "Is not alive anymore," he whispered. "Voldemort is dead. And I was in a coma. And so I needed some time to think about things."

"Ginny said you were a right git last night," Ron said. 

"He still is," Ginny said, narrowing her eyes. "Why are you aiming your wand at us?"

"Er..." Harry blinked, and then Voldemort said, "I'd like milk in my tea. _Accio_ milk."

"You should have said so," Hermione scolded mildly. She caught the milk and poured some in Harry's cup. 

So Voldemort could control Harry to a certain extent. And he could do spells with Harry's wand. Harry stood frozen. He didn't seat himself until Voldemort finally allowed him to lower his wand. 

_"Everything is fine, Harry. Just have a cuppa with your friends. Talk about all the wonderful things you've seen today. Talk about me, and your friends will die. Are we clear?"_

_Crystal_ , Harry thought, and reached for his cup of tea. "Thanks, Hermione."

"Are you all right?" Hermione tilted her head. "You look very pale."

"Just tired. I had a busy day." Harry sipped his tea, trying to stop his hand from trembling. His other hand, hidden in his lap under the table, still held his wand, and no matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn't get control over it. 

"But where have you been all day?" Hermione asked. 

"Yeah, I thought we were going to do stuff together," Ron added. 

"I just wanted to be alone. I went to see the Natural History Museum, and The London Dungeon, and then I saw _Titanic_ at the Odeon." There. He managed to sound composed and normal, not like he had a Dark Lord stuck inside of him. Harry sipped more tea. 

"You saw _Titanic_? How was it?" Hermione almost tipped over her own cup from sheer excitement. 

"It was all right." 

"And you couldn't wait for us to do all these things with you?" Ginny sounded resentful, and it tugged on something in Harry's chest. "Some boyfriend you are, sneaking off to do things by yourself."

"So you two are back together?" Hermione asked with an encouraging smile. "I always knew once you killed Voldemort you two would -- "

"We're not," Harry said, and promptly downed his tea. It burned the back of his throat, but he didn't care. He liked the pain. It kept him from feeling pain in different places. "I'm sorry, Ginny, but I don't think we'll work out right now."

Ginny stared down at the table, her lips pursed in a thin line. 

"Are you sure you're all right?" Hermione's concern was starting to get on Harry's nerves. He couldn't tell them a thing. He just wanted them to go away so Voldemort couldn't hurt them. "Perhaps you should go to St Mungo's. I mean, we're still not sure what you were hit with and it could -- "

"NO!" Harry slammed his hand down on the table. "I just want to be left alone. I've had Voldemort after me for as long as I can bloody well remember, and now I just want some time for myself. I'm sick and tired of people sticking their noses where they don't belong, namely, in my life!"

Hermione gaped at him.

"Harry, come on, we're just worried," Ron said with a puzzled look. 

"I know, but you're wasting your time." Harry leaned back in his chair. "I'm all right. I just want some time for myself now."

"You're still coming to Hogwarts with us, aren't you?" Hermione asked. 

Frowning, Harry looked at Hermione. He hadn't even thought about returning to Hogwarts now he knew Voldemort was stuck inside him. 

_"We are returning to Hogwarts."_

"I'm not sure," Harry said honestly. 

_"Tell them you are returning! We will discuss it later. Otherwise they'll be here all night, trying to convince you."_

"But I think so, yeah," Harry added. He smiled, though the corners of his mouth quivered. "I'm just taking some time for myself now, and then I'll be good and rested to start our seventh year."

Hermione returned his smile and got up. "It's late. Get a good night's sleep, Harry. And if there is something you want to talk to us about in the morning, you know where to find us." She tugged on Ron's shoulder, and he got up as well. 

"Yeah, we'd like it if you came back to the Burrow. Play Quidditch with Bill and the twins. How does that sound?" Ron gave him a hopeful look. 

It sounded really nice, but Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure yet, Ron. I'll let you know."

Ginny didn't say anything. She didn't even look at Harry as she walked out of the kitchen. 

"Good night, then," Hermione said. She and Ron followed Ginny out, and when Harry heard the front door slam shut, he lowered his head to the table. 

_"You did well, Harry."_

"Shut up," Harry muttered against the wooden table top. He finally managed to raise his hand and let his wand clatter to the table. His fingers felt stiff. "Just shut up."

 _"Come, let's go to bed."_ Something pulled on his back, as if Voldemort had a string attached to his spine. And Harry was too exhausted to protest. He got to his feet and stumbled out of the kitchen in search of his bedroom. 

_"Tomorrow, we can pay Severus a visit."_

"No, definitely not." Harry let himself drop on his bed. He didn't even bother taking off his clothes.

*--*--*

Harry sat on his bed, freshly showered and dressed, tourist guide in his lap, trying to decide where to spend the day.

_"Might I make a suggestion?"_

"No, we're not going to see Snape," Harry said, flipping through the pages. He was getting rather tired of Voldemort's suggestions to seek out Snape only to torture the bastard.

_"I never said I only wanted to -- "_

"How about the Victoria and Albert Museum?" Harry blurted. 

_"What do they have on display?"_

"Er..." Harry squinted at the page. "It boasts the greatest and most diverse collection of decorative art and design."

_"You want to waste your day looking at Muggle art?"_

"You're right. I don't." Harry snickered. "How about this one? The Imperial War Museum. You should like that."

_"It does sound more interesting than useless art, yes."_

"Fine, we'll go there." Harry jumped up from his bed. "And I get to pick the movie again for tonight."

_"Preferably something with less romance, if you please."_

Harry couldn't really disagree with that. "We'll see what's playing." He grabbed his wand and wallet, stuffed the guide in his back pocket, and sauntered down the stairs. He had no idea what he was going to do besides visiting another museum and seeing another movie. Somehow, as long as he did that, he didn't have to think about what would come that evening, or the day after, or even in two weeks time when Hogwarts started again. 

_"We should address the matter of visiting Severus soon, Harry."_

Clenching his hand around the door knob, Harry stared down at his shoes. "I already told you. I won't let you go there just so you can torture him and have me arrested for it."

_"It is not why I need to see him."_

"Oh, so when you see him you won't torture him?"

_"I didn't say that. But I do need to see him for good reasons."_

"Such as?"

_"Such as that he's the only Death Eater left who's not dead or in Azkaban or completely useless."_

Harry felt a small flutter of satisfaction. "He was never a Death Eater. He was never loyal to you."

_"A matter easily rectified, I assure you. But he can assist me. Us."_

"I'll think about it." Harry pulled the front door open. "It's still my holiday, so don't expect an answer soon."

_"I'll await your reply with bated breath. The sooner we see him, the sooner you'll be rid of me."_

Harry almost stumbled over his own feet. He wanted to be rid of Voldemort. But he really did not want to go see Snape. Still, would it be worth it to confront that greasy bastard if that meant getting a normal life? It probably was, but Harry wasn't quite ready to accept that yet.

*--*--*

_"And what did it prove? That trying to save someone else will get you or others killed."_

Harry snorted as he walked across Leicester square, away from the Odeon where they'd just seen _Saving Private Ryan_. "At least there was no romance," he muttered. 

_"Really? With a group of fit men like that, you think there wasn't a little romance going on under the cover of darkness?"_

His cheeks flushing, Harry slowed his pace. "That's not what I meant. Just stop it. It's disgusting to even suggest those soldiers were -- just shut up."

_"I think the lady doth protest too much. You know, I have lost count of the number of times you thought me handsome when gazing into Dumbledore's Pensieve."_

"I'm not like that! It meant nothing!" Harry saw several heads around him turn, and he stared down at the pavement as he marched on to the nearest tube station. An amused chuckle tickled Harry's insides, but he ignored it. 

They kept quiet on the tube; it had become an unspoken agreement by then. The day had gone reasonably well, if you conveniently forgot the whole Voldemort factor. The museum had been interesting enough, and while Voldemort appreciated dinner at Kentucky Fried Chicken about as much as he had McDonalds, he didn't complain. Much. 

And the movie had certainly been impressive. Harry thought it had been about sacrifice, though Voldemort didn't seem to understand that. 

_"Just because I do not share your opinion on the importance of such a sacrifice, does not mean I don't understand it."_

_Right_ , Harry thought. _That's why you completely forgot my mother's sacrifice would protect me._

_"I thought you didn't want to discuss your parents with me."_

_And I thought we wouldn't talk on the tube. Wait until we're outside._ It was decidedly odd to think things at Voldemort, instead of saying them. Even though Voldemort heard everything he thought anyway. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. Sharing your body with someone else was just too bloody complicated. 

The train came to an abrupt halt, and Harry let a few people pass before he jumped off. As he climbed the steps, he thought back to the movie. It was hard not to think of it, and Harry realized something. 

"Didn't you grow up during World War II?" he asked once he reached the streets. 

_"Yes. I vividly remember the sounds of German bombers flying up the Thames late at night. Is that what you wanted to know?"_

"Just wondering," Harry said, crossing a street. He was tired and glad to be almost home. "Is that why you hate Muggles so much? Because you've seen what they can do? Because they scare you?"

The only reply he got was a sharp sting of pain from his scar.

"No need to get hostile all of a sudden." Harry rubbed his forehead. "I was just asking a question."

_"Of course Muggles do not scare me. How could they? They are inferior."_

"I think the lady doth protest too much," Harry whispered, and received another flash of pain in response. "Stop it! They scare me, too, you know."

_"Muggles scare you?"_

"Well, not all the time," Harry said, waving a hand to indicate the quiet street around them. "Not when I'm walking around like this. But the idea of what they could do scares me, yeah. People in general can do pretty scary stuff, present company not excluded."

Voldemort remained quiet, and Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. He tapped his wand against the front door and let himself inside his house. He was greeted with a lit hallway and quick footsteps coming from the drawing room. 

"There he is! Wotcher, Harry." Tonks grinned at him from the doorway. 

"Er..." Harry closed the door and gave Tonks a puzzled look. "It's almost midnight. What are you doing here?"

_"This is Lucius' cousin, isn't it? The Auror?"_

_Yes. Sshh,_ Harry thought, and tried to look politely interested in the situation. 

"Hello, Harry." Lupin appeared behind Tonks, and now Harry got worried. 

"Did something happen? Is everyone all right?" He crossed the hallway and looked up at Lupin with wide eyes. "Is it Ron? Or Hermione?"

"Harry, no. Nothing happened. Everyone is fine. Well, we heard you weren't doing so well," Lupin put a hand on Harry's shoulder and guided him inside the drawing room. 

"What? Who told you that? I'm all right."

"That's why you've been roaming London all day?" Tonks asked with a crooked smile. "Because you're all right?"

Harry sat down on the couch, Tonks and Lupin on either side of him. "I'm having a much deserved holiday, thanks. For the first time in my life I don't have to worry about being kidnapped or killed on the spot by Voldemort."

God, there was so much irony in that statement. Voldemort chuckled; he seemed to think so, too.

"I can go to a museum or see a movie. I've never been able to do that before." Harry narrowed his eyes at first Tonks and then Lupin. "Who sent you here?"

"No one sent us," Lupin said, kind as ever. "Ron and Hermione shared their worries with Molly, and she shared them with us, so we decided to see how you were doing."

Harry sighed. "I'm fine, honestly, I don't need a babysitter. I'm seventeen!"

"You're eighteen," Tonks said helpfully. 

"Right." Harry frowned. He'd had his birthday when he'd been in a coma, and it hadn't really settled in yet. "Anyway. I'm having a holiday, and I'm going back to school in two weeks time, and for now I just want to do all the normal, boring stuff I've never been able to do. I'm fine. So you two can leave now."

"I don't think you're fine," Lupin said with a thoughtful smile. "You've been through so much and you haven't allowed yourself any time -- "

Harry jumped up from the couch. "You want to talk about what I've been through? You want to talk about how I'm a murderer now? How I cast the fucking Killing Curse? How the whole bloody world looked at me to defeat the most powerful wizard in the world?"

_"Why, thank you, Harry."_

"SHUT UP!"

Tonks and Lupin stared at Harry in obvious shock.

Harry wasn't done yet, though. He hadn't considered any of these things since he'd woken up from his coma, but now that he was saying them, he couldn't stop. "So excuse me for wanting to spend a few days alone, and not in the company of those who expected me to become a murderer and who will remind me of what I've done every single fucking minute!"

"Harry," Lupin tried, but Harry cut him off. 

"And another thing – what is it with people breaking into my house? This is _my_ house! Sirius left it to me. I live here. If you want to drop by unannounced you can bloody well wait outside until I get home instead of making yourself comfortable in my fucking living room. It's not the Order's headquarters anymore!"

"We apologize for that, Harry. It honestly hadn't crossed my mind," Lupin said with a wavering smile. "I understand it must -- "

"You understand nothing!"

_"Calm down, Harry, before they lock you up in St Mungo's. I understand a little outburst like this can be quite cathartic, but the idea is to get these people off your back, not on it."_

Harry hung his head and inhaled a deep breath. "I just want to be left alone for a while, so I can do all the stupid Muggle things I should have been doing years ago."

"I'm sorry," Lupin said, rising to his feet. "I don't think any of us has realized how much you craved to be a normal boy."

Voldemort made a gagging noise, and Harry felt his lips twitch. _"The next thing you know, he'll be quoting Pinocchio."_

 _You sure like your Disney movies, don't you?_ , Harry thought. 

_"It's not just some mutilated Muggle movie. It's a traditional wizarding Italian fairy tale."_

Harry frowned. _Someone actually turned a puppet into a real boy?_

_"Well, it was a bit more complicated than that, but yes, that is the gist of it."_

"Harry?" Lupin placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. 

"Yeah, sorry, just thinking." Harry shrugged the hand off and took a few steps closer to the door. "Please, just give me these two weeks for myself. I'll be fine."

"Yes, I think you will be." Lupin gestured at Tonks to get up from the couch. 

"But if you need any company, we'd be happy to go with you. I don't mind a little Muggle culture. My dad is always going on and on about how I shouldn't repress that side of me." 

"Nymphadora," Lupin said, gently taking Tonks' arm. "I think Harry knows where to find us, should he desire some company."

"Okay." Tonks offered Harry a bright smile. 

"Good night," Harry said. He just wanted them out of his house, so he could go to bed and forget about everything for a while. 

"Good night, Harry." Lupin steered Tonks out of the drawing room. When the front door clicked shut, Harry sagged onto the couch.

_"My, my, I had no idea you were such a gentle soul, Harry. All that frustration over one little Killing Curse."_

"The only reason I'm frustrated about it is that you wouldn't just die like you were supposed to, and now my soul is split and you're making yourself at home in my fucking mind," Harry said, and threw his glasses in his lap. He rubbed his hands across his face. 

Voldemort's chuckle slithered across Harry's back. _"You make a fine killer, Harry. You merely chose the wrong opponent."_

"In case you forgot, you chose me, not the other way around." 

_"Yes, I've always had a good eye for that particular talent."_

Harry couldn't believe he was discussing killing so casually with Voldemort of all people. It made him nauseated. "I'll write a letter to Snape. I'm done dealing with you," he said, and then groaned. "Fuck. Hedwig's still at the Burrow."

_"Then we will go to the post office first thing in the morning."_

"You mean, Diagon Alley?"

_"Or the one in Knockturn Alley. I have no preference in this matter."_

Harry snorted. "Fine. I have to stop by Gringott's to get some money, anyway." He pushed himself up from the couch and flicked off the lights with his wand. He didn't look forward to visiting Diagon Alley. But that idea wasn't nearly as horrifying as seeing Snape was. For the past year, all that had kept him going were two things: killing Voldemort and killing Snape.

And now he couldn't do either. Voldemort had set up camp in his bloody body, and he needed Snape to get rid of him. 

"You know, life was a lot easier when I was still able to just kill the both of you," Harry said, trudging up the stairs to his bedroom. 

_"A vindictive little boy, aren't you?"_

"No more than you."

That earned him a string of laughter that pooled in his belly. He changed into his pajamas and crawled under the sheets, exhausted and more than ready for a good night's sleep. He flicked the light off, released a deep sigh, and turned on his side. 

"Good night, Tom."

_"Good night, Pinocchio."_

Harry kicked at his sheets in annoyance, but he was too tired to muster any real anger. No, he'd rather save that for his upcoming confrontation with Snape.

*--*--*

"Blimey, look, it's Harry Potter!"

Not for the first time that morning, Harry wished he'd taken his invisibility cloak with him to Diagon Alley. He offered the witch and wizard who were pointing at him a quick smile and hurried along. Only a few more shops until the post office. Hopefully he'd make it without any more requests for autographs. 

_"It's funny how quick people are willing to believe what they want to believe, isn't it?"_

"Huh?"

_"I mean, they all know I didn't die the first time, so what makes them think you managed it this round?"_

"There was a body. I suspect it looked dead enough for them," Harry whispered, head down. 

Voldemort snorted. _"People are weak and far too willing to believe the impossible if that is what helps them sleep at night."_

"Not now," Harry muttered. "Save it until we're not around people who know who I am."

_"And it's remarkable how much you resent your fame. I always rather enjoyed mine."_

"You weren't famous. You were infamous. There is a difference."

_"Already talking about me in past tense, are you, Harry? You are as easily mollified as the rest of the world."_

"No, I know for a fact you're still here." Harry glanced up and was glad to see the post office sign. 

"Hello, Harry."

Harry spun around on his feet and saw a broad chest. When he looked up, he realized it was Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Hullo," he said, wondering if Kingsley had heard any of what he had said. 

_"He hasn't. I'd have warned you if someone was overhearing us."_

"Going to the post office? I was just going there myself." Kingsley held the door open for him, but Harry hesitated. He couldn't write to Snape while Kingsley was around. Kingsley was an Auror; he'd definitely ask questions why Harry wanted to contact a Death Eater.

_"Go inside. I'll think of something."_

Harry wasn't sure he wanted Voldemort to come up with a plan – it would most likely involve killing or torture – but he couldn't just flee either without looking suspicious. 

"Thanks," he said, and slipped inside the small store. The hooting of dozens of eager owls was overwhelming. 

"Go right ahead," Kingsley said with a friendly smile, gesturing at the counter. 

"No, you go ahead," Harry said, frantically searching for an excuse. And then his hand shot up and grabbed Kingsley's arm, pulling him to the side. 

_Don't hurt him!_ Harry thought. The last thing they needed was a dead Auror on their hands. Plus, he rather liked Kingsley. 

_"Calm down. I won't hurt him."_

"What's wrong?" Kingsley asked once they stood crammed into a corner. 

"The owl I want to send is private," Voldemort said, and Harry tried not to look too constipated. He'd never get used to Voldemort using his vocal chords. "It's a delicate matter."

"You're not in any trouble, are you?" Kingsley asked, narrowing his eyes. 

"No, I'm just gay, and I want to send a special friend an owl, but I don't want the whole world to know. People fixate on me enough as it is," Voldemort said, and Harry felt his eyes grow wide before Voldemort took over and forced his face into a more normal expression. 

"Ah." Kingsley grinned. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

"Thank you." 

"See you later, Harry." Kingsley slapped him on the shoulder and strolled towards the counter to take care of his own business. 

_I AM NOT FUCKING GAY!_ Harry thought as hard as he could. He doubted it would cause Voldemort any discomfort, but he just couldn't believe he'd said that. 

_"Relax. I got the Auror off our backs, didn't I?"_

_Not now. But later, we are going to discuss this, you fucking bastard!_ Harry pursed his lips so he wouldn't shout it. 

"Can I help you?" the clerk behind the counter asked once Kingsley was gone. Harry shuffled closer and inhaled a deep breath. 

"I want to send an owl."

The clerk handed him parchment and ink, and gestured at a jar of quills at Harry's elbow. "National or international?"

"National." Harry frowned and wrote down a quick note. 

 

_Snape,_

_I need to speak to you. It's important. It involves a mutual 'friend' of ours._

_Harry Potter_

 

"All right?" he whispered.

_"Perfect."_

Harry nodded, and rolled up the parchment. "To Severus Snape," he told the clerk, who tied the scroll to the leg of a barn owl. 

"That'll be five Sickles."

Harry fished inside his pocket for the correct amount as the owl took off through an opened window. 

"And now we wait," he whispered, as he left the store. 

_"Indeed."_

*--*--*

"It looks very shriveled," Harry mused as he stared down.

_"It is very old."_

"Yeah, but I'd thought it would look more...fleshy."

Voldemort snickered. _"It's a mummy. Not an inferius. Though, if you like, we can still animate it."_

"We're in a Muggle museum, for fuck's sake. We can't have an Egyptian mummy dancing around here."

 

_"I suppose not, but it would still be entertaining."_

Harry thought about that and felt a grin tugging on his lips. "Yeah," he agreed, and moved on to the next glass casket. It had been a brilliant idea to go to The British Museum. Their Egyptian department was overwhelming, and Harry wasn't the only one enjoying himself. Apparently ancient artifacts were the equivalent of Dark Lord paradise. 

Voldemort knew a lot about ancient Egyptian history. No, strike that. He knew a LOT. He knew that half the artifacts on display were actually wizarding artifacts, and he knew each and every piece's history, and he told Harry every single detail. 

And Harry sucked it up as if it were chocolate. 

"How come you know so much about this?" Harry asked, strolling into the next hall. 

_"I spent time in Egypt, studying their culture. Ancient Egypt is the only recorded mixed Muggle-wizarding culture on this planet."_

"You mean, wizards and Muggles lived together? And Muggles knew about magic?"

_"Yes. Muggles these days don't know that, of course. But when you study their history with magical knowledge, it all makes perfect sense."_

"Wow."

_"The idea of creating mummies actually comes from magic. The soul leaving and returning to the body can be achieved by magic. Ancient Egyptians experimented with that a lot, and much of their research is preserved on the walls of temples to this day."_

And as Voldemort carried on explaining about magic in ancient Egypt, Harry thought that he'd have made a pretty good teacher, had Dumbledore ever given him the job. Not counting that he'd probably have taught Dark Arts instead of defense against, but still. He sure knew how to make a lecture interesting. 

_"You think I'm a good teacher?"_

Harry's cheeks flushed, as if he'd been caught having a very private thought. "Yeah, I suppose so. You're sure as hell better than Binns."

Voldemort gave a snort of laughter. _"Binns was already around in my days. Just about anyone is better than him."_

"Yeah." Harry sat down on a wooden bench. "But did you really want to be a teacher, or did you just want it for..."

_"For what? For forming my very own Dark Arts-instructed army? I did not need a position at Hogwarts to achieve that."_

"So why did you apply for the job?"

Voldemort remained quiet for a moment. _"I enjoyed my time at Hogwarts. And the idea of passing on all my knowledge appealed to me."_

"Right. Teaching innocent little minds the Dark Arts, you mean."

_"Is what I am telling you now so wrong? All Soul Magic is considered Dark Arts. And yet it is a fascinating subject. Not all Dark Arts are as extreme as the Unforgivable Curses."_

Harry considered that. "I suppose not. But you seem very keen on the Unforgivable Curses all the same."

_"And you are a little saint? Or do I have to remind you that you cast the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix?"_

Harry hung his head. "I was angry then. She'd killed Sirius."

_"And that makes it all right? You were angry, so that excuses you. While if I or Severus or anyone else were to use it, they'd send us to Azkaban. Or you'd try to kill us."_

"I don't know," Harry said, honestly. He hadn't really considered that matter before. 

_"It is called hypocrisy, Harry. You cast a Cruciatus Curse. You cast a Killing Curse. You spent a year dreaming about torturing Severus with Unforgivables, and yet you are lauded a hero. I use an Unforgivable Curse and suddenly I deserve to die."_

"Stop it," Harry said, his gaze fixed on his shoes. "You killed my parents."

_"That is how you see it. I see it differently. I defended myself against your father and I gave your mother a choice."_

"You tried to kill me!"

_"And you tried to kill me!"_

Harry inhaled a deep, shaky breath. 

_"What I am trying to say, Harry, is that the world isn't divided into good and evil."_

"There is only power and those too weak to seek it," Harry whispered, remembering those words from his first year. "Well, I didn't believe you back then, and I still don't believe you right now."

_"And yet here you are. Boy hero who used Unforgivable Curses because he is so convinced he is good."_

"God, I hope we hear from Snape soon. I'm getting fucking tired of you and your excuses." Harry scuffed his shoe across the floor. 

_"No, you are merely unwilling to see things from a different perspective."_

"No more than you," Harry said.

_"Come on, Pinocchio. There is still much to see here."_

"Stop calling me that, Tommy." Harry got up and walked towards the nearest display cabinet. "I mean, honestly, what is it with your name? Tom's a perfectly good name. Voldemort is a ridiculous name – ow! Stop it."

*--*--*

_"I'm starting to sense a theme here."_

"What?" Harry asked. For the third night in a row he crossed Leicester Square towards the tube station. He'd rather enjoyed _Armageddon_. 

_"First there were two lovers trying to save each other, then a group of men saving a complete stranger, and now a bunch of incompetents saving the entire planet. You have issues, Harry."_

"I do not," Harry said stubbornly. "It was just a stupid action movie."

_"Perhaps I am the first to tell you this, but you do not have to save the world time and again."_

"If I wanted to save the world, I'd throw myself in front of the train, not get on it."

_"Ah, but you're an intelligent boy. You know that won't kill me. Only you. A waste, if you ask me."_

Harry sighed. "They're just movies. It's not as if I made them."

_"If you say so."_

During the ride home Harry tried not to think of what Voldemort had said, but failed. What made him want to save people? He honestly didn't know. 

He sure as hell hadn't been able to save himself from the Dursleys in his youth. He'd been helpless. Just a child. Was that why he couldn't bear to see others helpless these days?

Or was it a result of what had happened in his first year? He'd stopped Voldemort back then. He'd been forced to, really. No, that wasn't true. There had been plenty of adults at Hogwarts he could have warned, even though Dumbledore was away. He could have gone to Sprout or Pomfrey or anyone, really. And yet he'd barreled headfirst into the whole mess, and he had no idea why. 

_"Just think of it as an extreme character flaw, Harry. No need to scrutinize it to death."_

And now he was stuck with Voldemort, and there was very little hands-on saving to be done, and Harry felt a bit out of his league. 

_"Yes, I had figured that by your sudden obsession with Muggle culture."_

Harry shook his head as he got off the train. Once on the street and out in the open, Harry stopped and stared up at the sky. The lights around him made it difficult to see many of the stars, but he could see the waning moon right over his head. 

"It makes you feel insignificant, doesn't it?"

_"I rarely feel insignificant. What are you talking about?"_

"The universe. The idea that an asteroid could just wipe us all out. It puts things in perspective."

_"We see a movie about a bunch of idiots on a piece of rock in space, and now you get philosophical with me?"_

Harry shrugged, and walked down the quiet street. "I'm just a blip in space. And so are you. And perhaps this whole situation isn't really all that important in the grand scheme of things."

_"Are you depressed? They have potions for that. You may feel insignificant, but I certainly don't."_

"Big surprise there," Harry muttered, and opened the front door. Hopefully there wouldn't be a horde of friends waiting to save him from whatever disaster they thought he was caught in. The house seemed empty, and Harry sighed in relief as he closed the door behind him. 

_"We're not alone."_

"Huh?"

_"Get your wand up!_

Harry raised his wand, and just then the shadows near the drawing room moved. 

"Mr Potter. You wished to see me. Though why you made me wait for your esteemed presence all evening I haven't a clue."

"Snape." Harry's fingers tightened around his wand, and only now did he notice Snape had his wand out as well.

"Shall we talk in here?" Snape flicked his wand and the lights sprung on in the drawing room. 

"Sure." Harry watched as Snape disappeared inside the room and noted that Snape didn't turn his back to Harry at any point. 

_"Go on. But keep alert."_

Harry entered the drawing room. Snape stood beside one of the leather chairs. 

_"Keep the couch between yourself and Snape at all times, Harry. Do it! This is a Death Eater who has no qualms about cursing you."_

_Okay,_ Harry thought, and moved slowly to stand half behind the couch. 

"What did you wish to discuss, Potter?"

 _How much do I tell him?_ Harry thought. He moved a little further behind the couch. 

_"Everything. He needs to know everything if we're to enlist his help."_

Harry stared at Snape. He looked like a great, black blob in the light around him. Long, black robes and his black hair falling across most of his face. And black eyes staring intently at Harry. 

"Well, there is no easy way of saying this," Harry said, trying for upbeat and not desperate because he was being possessed. "Voldemort -- "

"Do not say his name!"

Harry gaped at Snape for a moment, and then burst out in laughter. "God, you have no idea." He hiccuped. "Come on, Snape, why the paranoia? He's dead, isn't he?"

"Old habits die hard. Now get on with it." Snape's eyes narrowed. Never a good sign. 

"Right then. Your precious Dark Lord isn't dead. There."

Snape remained quiet for the space of three heartbeats – Harry felt them pound in his ears. "Is this your idea of a joke, Potter?"

"No joke."

Snape raised his wand a little higher. "Are you saying you failed at yet another thing? You couldn't even kill the Dark Lord while I all but handed him to you on a platter?" 

Harry flinched. Of course Snape would say it was all his fault. "It was your shoddy information that messed things up!"

"My information on the last two Horcruxes was sound!"

"Apparently it wasn't, because he sure as hell didn't die!"

Snape's jaw twitched. "What happened? Where is he? If he finds out -- "

"Too late," Harry whispered, and he felt his entire stance change, his body drawing itself upright, as if Voldemort was controlling every muscle inside him. 

"Hello, Severus, my dear friend," Voldemort said. "Or should I say, my dear traitor?"

Snape's face became ashen, the color of a corpse.

"I must confess you had me fooled," Voldemort continued. "Killing Albus Dumbledore. Only a true friend would do that for me, you'd think. And yet you outwitted me. You and that old fool. But see here. Albus Dumbledore is dead, and I am still alive. Very much so."

Snape's hand holding his wand trembled, and his eyes widened enough to show white all around the black, and then, 

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

Harry saw the words forming on Snape's lips for the second time in his life, but he stood frozen on the spot. A weight pulled on him, hands tugging him down, and Harry dropped to the floor behind the couch. The curse hit the couch, fabric and foam exploding around him. 

For a second the room was deadly quiet, until Harry found his voice again. "Fuck! Why did he do that?"

_"Because Severus thinks he has figured something out, but he is mistaken. Allow me."_

"You are wrong, Severus!" Voldemort shouted, while Harry scrambled to his hands and knees. "The boy is not the last one! I was onto the boy's plan a lot sooner than you know. He's been destroying mere trinkets, not my soul."

"What?" Harry hadn't the foggiest what Voldemort was trying to say. "I'm not the last what?"

"Horcrux, Potter," Snape said. "You are a Horcrux."

"WHAT?" Harry stuck his head up above the couch, and immediately ducked behind it again, expecting more green light. But none came. He carefully peeked over the edge of the ruined couch. 

Snape stood still beside the chair. Some color had returned to his cheeks, but he looked strangely impassive. 

"I'm not – I can't be – that's not possible."

_"It is, Harry. I will explain it to you later in great detail if you wish, but for now we must deal with Severus."_

"Fuck Snape! I want to know what the hell is going on!"

Snape curved one eyebrow. 

"I wasn't talking to you," Harry said, slowly getting to his feet. He kept his wand aimed at Snape. "He talks in my mind. I was talking to him."

"I see." Snape inclined his head at Harry. "And what do you propose we do now, my Lord?"

"Don't call me that!"

"I wasn't talking to you, Potter. I was addressing _him_."

"If you two are quite done," Voldemort said. 

"Yes," Snape said, just as Harry yelled, "No!"

_"Harry, calm down now."_

"I'm not going to calm down! He cast a fucking Killing Curse at me! And – God, oh God, you saved my life."

_"Yes, but we can discuss that later."_

"Do I owe you a life debt now?"

_"I should imagine so, yes. Now let me talk to Severus."_

Harry groaned, and gripped at the couch with his free hand. He couldn't be owing a life debt to Voldemort. It couldn't be true. 

"Severus, I need your assistance."

"Yes, I had gathered that from the lack of Killing Curses in my direction," Snape said. "I am at your service, my Lord."

"You can't trust him!" Harry blurted. "He'll betray us!"

"No, he won't," Voldemort said. "Because I know something about Severus. He likes his freedom, don't you, Severus? And were he to tell anyone I am not dead and sharing a body with Harry Potter, the Ministry would unexpectedly run across some evidence. You see, Severus may be acquitted for the murder of Albus Dumbledore, but Severus' soul has more spots on it. More cracks running through it."

Harry blinked. Snape's lips were pursed so tightly they weren't visible anymore. 

"I doubt the Ministry will acquit him for killing a Muggle named Patricia Walters. Or the Auror Philip Meadows. What do you think, Severus? Will it get you a life sentence in Azkaban or the Dementor's Kiss?"

Snape inclined his head again. "I will not speak of this with anyone, my lord."

"You can't trust him!" Harry yelled again. He couldn't believe Voldemort. "He's betrayed us. He's betrayed you. He's betrayed everyone. He killed Dumbledore!"

_"Harry -- "_

" _CRUCIO!_ "

Snape crashed to the floor, body writhing and shaking, hair falling back from his face to reveal bared teeth and tightly shut eyes. Small whimpers rose from his throat. Harry was so fascinated by the sight he hardly realized he'd cast the curse on him. 

_"That's my boy."_ Voldemort cackled, high and piercing in Harry's mind.

Snape's mouth fell open and hoarse screams escaped, his body thrashing against the wooden floor. 

_"This is what you've wanted to see all year, isn't it, Harry? Severus at your feet, writhing in agony?"_

Harry lowered his wand, and Snape's body stilled. He'd cast an Unforgivable. A successful Cruciatus Curse. And he didn't even feel guilty about it. Snape deserved it. Snape deserved a whole lot more than that. 

_"No, no, we need him sane and functional."_

"Severus, my dear traitor," Voldemort said, moving Harry's body from behind the couch. "As you can see, you no longer have one master. You have two now. Betray us, and we both will hunt you down."

"Yes, my Lords," Snape whispered. 

Harry stopped at Snape's feet and stared down at him. He didn't feel a thing, but Voldemort continued speaking. "Severus has no other master to return to this time. There is no Albus Dumbledore to offer him protection. There is only a Ministry eager to lock him away, and an Order that doesn't trust him. Severus has no place else to go but into our arms, Harry. And Severus knows this, doesn't he?"

"Yes, my Lords."

"I really wish he wouldn't call me that," Harry said. 

"Yes, Potter."

"Better. Now what?"

"Now we shall retire to the kitchen and discuss our plans over a cup of tea," Voldemort said. "Isn't that how Dumbledore always placated you, Severus? Well, for old time's sake then."

Snape pushed himself up to his hands and knees, head low and black hair obscuring his face. His wand had rolled a small distance away, and Harry bent over to pick it up.

"I can't believe you cast the Killing Curse at me, you bastard," he muttered, pocketing Snape's wand. 

"I killed Dumbledore for my cause, Potter. Whatever gave you the idea I wouldn't do the same to you?" Snape stared up at Harry. A small trickle of blood dripped from his nose. 

_"Yes, let this be a lesson for you, Harry. Never turn your back to Severus. He is far too fond of stabbing it."_

As Harry walked out of the drawing room, he kept a close eye on Snape.

*--*--*

Harry had done awkward many times in his life. His dates with Cho Chang, for example, had been very awkward. However, they had nothing on the awkwardness Harry was feeling at that moment, seated at his kitchen table across from Snape, Voldemort balanced between them like some sort of organic sword of Damocles.

Except that Voldemort was safely tucked away inside Harry, where he certainly didn't belong. Not to mention the whole 'Harry-was-a-Horcrux-issue', which he refused to even think about. 

Yes, considering everything carefully, Harry had to admit this was as awkward as it could possibly get. 

"What do you require of me, my Lord?" Snape sipped his cup of tea. He looked quite composed, seeing that he'd been under the Cruciatus not ten minutes before. His hands hardly trembled. 

"A potion," Voldemort said. Harry kept to stirring his tea. He thought it wouldn't be a smart idea to try to sip it while Voldemort was using his mouth. "Have you heard of Sekem's Vessel?"

Snape frowned and lowered his cup. "I've read about it."

"Yes, I thought you might have. I need the potion that will wield the vessel."

"But Sekem's Vessel has never even been uncovered," Snape said, his frown deepening. He stared at Harry. "And I have never heard of a recipe for its potion."

"Let me worry about uncovering Sekem's Vessel. I need you to recreate the potion."

"My Lord, I haven't an idea even where to start."

"Ah, but I do. Thanks to Harry, I have found a few key ingredients." Voldemort raised Harry's hand and sipped the tea. It was bloody hot. "Crocodile hearts, ibis blood, cobra venom, phoenix tears, and erumpent bone."

"Of course," Snape whispered, obviously to himself. Harry was amazed at the way Snape and Voldemort talked to each other. As if they were dear old friends catching up over a cup of tea. 

_"Ah, but we are old friends. And what's a little betrayal between friends."_

"It will take me time to construct that potion, my Lord. Weeks. Even months. I'll have to build it from the base up. Not to mention the cost of the ingredients."

"Leave the finances to me, Severus. I want you to create me this potion. And I have all the time in the world. I'm quite comfortable where I am right now."

"Bloody great," Harry muttered. Snape snorted, and Harry glared at him. "What's this vessel? What does it do?"

"If wielded correctly, it will give me a body," Voldemort said. 

"But why use this vessel?" Harry asked. "Why not do what you did last time. We can go to the graveyard right now. I'll give you some blood, and Snape can cut off his hand, and you'll have your body back, and everyone will be happy."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "I'm not cutting off my hand, Potter."

"See, there is your first problem," Voldemort said. Harry went back to stirring his tea. "Flesh from the servant must be willingly given. Severus would have to be... persuaded to give me his flesh. And blood from my enemy has to be forcibly taken. It won't work if you donate your blood, Harry. Besides, I was not completely satisfied with the outcome of that ritual. Sekem's Vessel is the better choice."

"But _months_?" Harry whined. "I can't do this for months."

"Of course you can. You've lived with part of my soul most of your life."

"But I want to go back to Hogwarts. I can't take you with me to school. Oh! You could possess Snape when I leave for school."

Snape choked on his tea. 

"Harry, no. You are perfectly adapted to be my host for a long period of time. Snape is not. If I were to possess him for months, he'd start showing certain physical manifestations."

"I'm not wearing a turban," Snape said. "You failed to kill him, Potter. You put up with him."

Voldemort chuckled. "I'll come with you to Hogwarts, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened. "You can't. All my friends are there. I won't let you hurt them."

"Have I hurt your friends?"

"You threatened to kill them!"

"Ah, yes, because you threatened to expose me. We have a deal, remember? You keep my secrets, and I will keep from hurting your friends. Besides, I want to see what useful things I can find in the Restricted Section of Hogwarts' library."

Harry bit his lip. He didn't want Voldemort at Hogwarts. But he didn't want to give up on his final year, either. He needed his NEWTs if he ever was to become an Auror. 

"I was a brilliant student, remember, Harry? I can give you perfect NEWT scores."

Snape sat his cup down on its saucer with a loud clatter. 

Harry blinked. He hadn't actually considered that part of it before. "You'd help me with my homework? With potions? I'm not very good at them."

Snape looked as if it cost him a great deal not to comment on that.

"Of course I will. I'll help you with all your school work, if you like."

"But you can't hurt my friends. Ever. Snape works on this potion, you come to Hogwarts with me and be good about it, and then you'll get your body back. But if you hurt my friends, I swear I'll drown myself in the lake and you'll be one Horcrux short!"

"Deal," Voldemort said, and Harry released a deep breath. "Don't worry, my little Horcrux. Things will be fine."

"My Lord, forgive me for asking," Snape said, glancing at Harry curiously. "But how did this happen? How did the boy become a Horcrux?"

"An accident. I was preparing to create a Horcrux that evening, but when my curse backfired, somehow that piece of my soul ended up in Harry. I didn't realize it until I possessed him at the Ministry and saw what had happened."

"The end of my fifth year," Harry said. "You suddenly stopped trying to kill me after that. I was wondering about that."

"Now you know. I very much prefer you alive, Harry."

"And the other Horcruxes?" Snape asked smoothly. 

Voldemort laughed. "Come now, Severus. You think me a fool? That would be telling."

Snape inclined his head, and Harry swore he saw a small smile tugging on Snape's lips. "If that will be all, my Lord. I'll start on the potion at once. I'll keep you informed. All owls go to Potter, I presume?"

"Obviously," Voldemort said. He nodded at Snape, and Snape got up from his seat. 

_I still don't trust him,_ Harry thought. _I don't trust him not to run to Lupin or Shacklebolt the moment he is out the door._

_"It would cost him his life. He knows this."_

Harry pursed his lips. _And I sure as hell don't trust him not to kill me the first chance he gets._

_"Yes, he has already proved himself untrustworthy with your life, hasn't he?"_

"Severus," Voldemort said. Snape, who was already at the door, turned around slowly. "One last thing." Voldemort forced Harry's body up and extended his hand. "Harry can serve as our Bonder."

"My Lord?"

"Just a little vow to ensure your loyalty to our cause. And you'll be wanting your wand back, won't you?" Voldemort reached for the wands in Harry's pocket. He held onto Snape's until Snape accepted his outstretched hand and clasped it. He offered Snape his wand, and held Harry's as if it were his own. 

Harry was catching on to Voldemort's plan, and he couldn't say he disagreed with it. An Unbreakable Vow would force Snape to obey them. "What do I do?" he asked, and suddenly felt control seeping back into his hand that held his wand. 

"Just hold your wand against our hands. We'll do the rest."

Doing as he was told, Harry stared at Snape. He saw nothing in the man's face, nothing that gave away any now thwarted plans of betrayal. Snape looked impassively accepting of the situation. Then again, he didn't really have any other choice. 

"Will you, Severus, swear not to harm or kill Harry Potter?"

"I will."

A rope of bright flame shot from Harry's wand and wound itself around their clasped hands. 

"And will you, Severus, swear not to share your knowledge about my current state or location with anyone?"

"I will." 

A second string of flame joined the first one around their hands. Harry was a little surprised it actually seemed to be working, seeing that he still didn't have a clue what to do.

"And will you, Severus, swear you will do all you can to brew me the potion for Sekem's Vessel?"

"I will."

A third flame wound around their hands, and all three ropes tightened until Harry feared they would burn his skin. But before the flames touched Harry's hand, they dissolved with a puff of smoke. Voldemort held onto Snape's hand. 

"Is there anything else you require of me tonight, my Lord?" Snape asked with a slight tilt of his head. He seemed expectant. 

"No, not tonight. But soon, I should imagine." Voldemort finally released Snape's hand, and Snape stepped back with a small bow. He was out the door a moment later. 

_"Are you satisfied now, my little Horcrux?"_

"Don't call me that. But yeah, this is all right. I mean, if Snape tries to betray us, he'll drop dead, right?"

_"Something like that, yes."_

"Good." Harry downed his lukewarm tea, glad to have control over his entire body back. 

Voldemort's chuckle spilled down Harry's body all the way to his toes. Harry shivered, and promptly turned to leave the kitchen. He'd seen enough excitement for one day. A Killing Curse directed at him, Snape finally at his feet under the Cruciatus Curse, and the news he was actually a Horcrux. 

Harry wanted sleep and nothing else. 

But as he lay under the covers and stared up at the ceiling, sleep wouldn't come. There were too many things on his mind and he had no idea what to make of any of them. 

"So if you possess me for a couple of months, will you start growing out of the back of my head, too?"

_"No. You are my Horcrux. Possessing you feels like being inside my own body."_

"Ah." Harry considered that. "That's good. Because if I suddenly started wearing a turban, people would ask annoying questions."

_"Go to sleep, Harry."_

Harry remained quiet for a few moments, but his mind refused to calm down.

"So what did it feel like to possess Quirrell?"

_"Uncomfortable. Like wearing a pair of shoes that doesn't quite fit."_

"Ah." Harry chewed on his bottom lip. "I meant what I said. If you so much as look strangely at my friends, I will drown myself in the lake."

_"We have a deal. I will not harm your friends as long as you keep my secrets. Besides, the lake wouldn't be a good way to kill yourself."_

"No?"

_"The giant squid would fish you right out again. It's there to prevent accidents of that sort."_

"Ah."

_"Sleep, Harry. We both need it."_

Harry closed his eyes, but a moment later he opened them again. "Is that why you didn't try very hard during our last duel? Because I'm your Horcrux?"

 _"You thought I wasn't trying?"_ Voldemort sounded affronted. It made Harry snicker. _"I assure you, I was. I just had no intention of casting a Killing Curse at you. It gave you a certain advantage."_

"Yeah." Harry turned on his side. "So is that why I can speak parseltongue? Because there's a piece of you inside me? And is that why we've had this strange mental connection?"

_"Yes, I believe so."_

"What will happen when you get your body back?" Harry whispered. He pulled the covers up a little higher. 

_"We are not going to discuss that now. Go to sleep."_

Harry sighed. "All right. Night, Tom."

_"Good night, my little Horcrux."_

"I'm not really little, you know."

 _"I know."_ Voldemort sounded as if he were smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry woke up to the feeling of a hand stroking his cock. It took him a few blinks of his eyes to gather his thoughts, to realize where he was and what was going on. 

Was he wanking in his sleep? Except the hand fisting his cock didn't really feel like his own hand.

Harry peeked down his body, his eyesight still slightly blurred, but not enough to miss a few key points. The sheets were pulled down. As were his pajama bottoms. And it was his hand stroking his hard cock. 

And then his mind caught up with his body, as if someone had opened a gate inside his head, and heat washed over him. His back arched off the bed, his heels dug into the mattress, and thick drops of semen shot across his stomach. 

Harry'd had many an orgasm before, but none of them had been as intense as this one. The heat that usually swirled around his groin and belly was everywhere, from the tip of his nose all the way down to his toes. It made his skin shiver and his muscles ache and his eyes were shut so tightly he feared they might never open again. 

Slowly, the pleasure rippled away until all that was left was Harry's numb body and disoriented mind. 

Well, that had to be the strangest wet dream he'd ever had. 

_"What? And I get no credit for it?"_

Harry's eyes snapped open and he sat upright at once. "What – did you – the fuck – you touched my dick!"

_"Technically, it's my penis now, too."_

"The hell it is!" Harry scrambled off the bed so fast he landed on his hands and knees. "You molested me in my sleep!"

_"I did not. We've been under a lot of stress lately. I merely thought I'd help us relieve some of it. I quite enjoyed it, and from what I felt, so did you."_

Harry sat up on his knees and pointed his finger, as if he could lecture Voldemort. "You don't ever – EVER – touch my penis! It's mine!"

_"What about my needs, then, Harry? I am not used to the kind of celibacy you are forcing upon us."_

Harry tried to shout his objections, but all that came out was a hoarse, strangled cry. He half walked, half crawled towards the bathroom. There he found his voice again as he ripped off his pajamas. "I don't care about your bloody needs. The last thing I need is for you to be touching that part of me."

_"There is no shame in being a virgin. I might be able to help you."_

Harry spun around on his feet, as though Voldemort was standing behind him. "I wouldn't be a bloody virgin right now if you hadn't interrupted me that night at the Burrow! And what does that have to do with anything?"

_"You're acting a little repressed. One would think you've never received a simple hand job before. And you're referring to the redhead? Please, Harry, she's not your type."_

"She is my type!"

_"Fine, but she certainly isn't mine. Thus we're stuck with each other, and I for one feel confident and mature enough to lend you a hand. I'd appreciate it if you did the same for me."_

"I'm not having this conversation with you," Harry muttered. He stepped into the shower, and for the first minute failed to notice he'd forgotten to turn on the hot tap and the water was chilling. He added warm water until his teeth stopped clattering. "We're not ever discussing this again. My penis, or my sexuality, or the state of my virginity. Not ever again!"

_"It appears I am staying inside the only sexually repressed teenager in the whole of Britain."_

"I'm not talking to you," Harry told the wall, and started washing his hair with a vengeance. 

And true to his word, Harry didn't respond to Voldemort again. That was, until he was halfway in his jeans and heard the floo downstairs activate. 

_"Was that -- "_

"Yeah, my floo." Harry pulled up his jeans, tossed a t-shirt over his head, grabbed his wand, and sneaked out of his bedroom. Once he was halfway down the stairs, he heard a familiar voice call out from the kitchen. 

"Harry? Are you up yet?"

"Yeah," Harry called back, pocketing his wand. "I'll be right there, Hermione."

_"She's awfully insistent, isn't she? What does she want now?"_

"I have no idea," Harry whispered. "Behave yourself."

_"Don't I always?"_

Harry chose to ignore that, and he made his way down to the kitchen, where he found Hermione and Ron. 

"Why didn't you ever tell us?" Ron asked. "Or for that matter, why didn't you ever tell Ginny? She's been crying ever since she saw it."

"Huh?"

"Oh, Harry. Don't you get the _Prophet_?" Hermione asked. 

"No," Harry said, at a loss what his friends were talking about. 

_"No? We should get a subscription. I'd like to keep up with things."_

_Shut up,_ Harry thought.

"I thought you didn't." Hermione produced a copy of the newspaper from behind her back and held it up for Harry to see. It was hard to miss the big, fat headline. 

HARRY POTTER'S TEARFUL CONFESSION: I AM GAY

_I'm going to kill you,_ Harry thought, sending a few choice mental images of torture along with it. 

_"So you keep saying. I have yet to see you actually do it."_

"Well?" Hermione sounded encouraging. 

"I...er...what does the article say?" Harry scratched the back of his head. 

"That you confessed to your dear Auror friend Kingsley Shacklebolt how you were struggling with your sexuality, right before you sent off a letter filled with passion to your special male friend," Ron said. 

Hermione looked at him in awe. "I can't believe you remembered all that."

_"So it seems your Auror friend wasn't as trustworthy as I'd hoped he'd be."_

_No, Kingsley would never do that._ Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a beak tapping against the window. He quickly let the unfamiliar owl in and accepted the small scroll. 

 

_Harry,_

_I just saw the Prophet. I'm sorry, but I assure you I didn't tell a soul. I'll pay that clerk at the post office a little visit this afternoon and see what he's got to say for himself._

_Kingsley Shacklebolt_

 

Harry heaved a relieved sigh. _Told you._

"Is that from your...er...boyfriend?" Hermione asked softly. She was blushing. 

"No!" Harry incinerated the note with a quick spell. "From Kingsley, telling me he didn't tell anyone. He suspects the clerk is behind this."

"Ah." Ron shuffled his feet. "So it's true."

"Well -- "

_"Don't deny it. This is the perfect explanation for your odd behavior of late."_

_I'm not going to tell my friends I'm gay,_ Harry thought while desperately trying to keep a straight face. 

_"I don't see the problem. You were vehemently opposed to any kind of sex only minutes ago, so it's not as if it will influence your sex-life."_

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, I did tell Kingsley." There. His friends could make of that what they wanted. "But it wasn't tearful or anything," he added, lest his friends thought he'd had a breakdown of sorts. Voldemort snorted. It made Harry's nose wrinkle. 

"That certainly explains it." Hermione folded the newspaper and tucked it in her pocket. 

"Yeah, I suppose." God, Harry hated lying to his friends. 

_"Telling a little lie is of no matter when the truth is so much worse."_

_Good point,_ Harry thought. The truth would get his friends killed. 

"But why didn't you ever tell us?" Hermione offered him one of her knowing smiles. 

"I'm not – you know, I'm still struggling with it. A bit. It's not very easy."

"It doesn't matter, though," Ron said. Harry could tell he was trying to sound mature about this. "I mean, you killed Voldemort. It doesn't matter you were queer doing it. I mean – I don't mind."

Harry snickered. "All right."

"But, you know, you could have told Ginny, at least." Ron looked cross. "She was really upset just when we left."

Harry briefly closed his eyes. Now Ginny was going to think he was doing all these weird things with blokes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. 

"Don't apologize to us," Hermione said. "Apologize to her. When you see her again. Perhaps at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah. I'll be at Hogwarts." Harry sighed. "I've a lot to do today."

"Oh. We thought maybe you'd like to have breakfast with us?" Ron asked. He sounded so uncertain. It made Harry's stomach ache. 

"I'm sorry. I have other plans. Some other day, yeah?"

"All right. See you later, Harry." Hermione took Ron's arm and together they disapparated. 

Harry stood still for a minute. "Tom?"

_"Yes, my little Horcrux?"_

"Don't – not now. How much do you know about magical wards?"

_"Enough. Why?"_

"Because I want to stop people from falling out of my fireplace or breaking down my door."

_"Well, let's do some magic then."_

*--*--*

"I can't move," Harry said, laying sprawled on the couch.

_"Now you sound like a squib."_

"Huh?"

_"Someone who has never done any real magic before."_

"I know what a bloody – God, I seriously can't move." Harry tried lifting his head, and failed. Voldemort had helped him set up spells and even curses around the entire house to keep unwanted guests out and them safe inside. They'd been busy the entire morning and half the afternoon, and Harry had only stopped for a quick brunch. 

And now he was exhausted to the point his limbs felt liquefied.

_"I'd like to visit the British Museum again soon."_

"Tomorrow. Right now, I think – sleep, yeah. Some sleep." 

_"And waste away the entire day?"_

"It's my holiday. I can sleep if I want to." Harry let his eyes fall shut. Yes, that was much better. Just his mind drifting off into darkness and his body in a state of utter relaxation. Thoughts and questions floated near the surface of his conscience. Strange thoughts and questions, but they intrigued Harry nonetheless. 

"Why did you choose me?" he whispered, barely aware his lips were moving. "Why pick the half-blood over a pureblood?"

_"Because I know never to underestimate a half-blood. They get the best of both worlds."_

"Ah." That was the last Harry knew as sleep swept him away. 

He was standing in Snape's office, the walls lined with jars that held all sorts of miniature dinosaurs. Tom Riddle was sitting behind Snape's desk. Not Voldemort, Harry knew. This was Tom Riddle. Handsome and clever and completely out of place. 

"Where's Snape?" Harry asked. It was important that he found Snape. 

"Snape doesn't work here anymore, remember, Harry?" Tom said. 

Harry nodded. He did remember that. "He killed me."

"He tried." Tom rose from his seat and circled the desk, every step taking him closer and closer to Harry until they stood face to face. Tom was taller than him. 

"Are you my teacher now? I need a Potions teacher."

"Yes, I am, my little Harry."

"I'm not your – I'm not little."

"I know," Tom whispered, leaning his face even closer. "I felt it."

"I'm not like that." Harry didn't draw back when Tom brushed his lips across Harry's. 

"Yes, you are. It was in the paper." Tom smiled and he looked devious and inviting, and Harry gave him a kiss, and another one, and their mouths opened and tongues touched. 

Harry leaned back enough to gasp for breath. "I don't think we're supposed to kiss at Hogwarts."

"We can do anything we want. Anything I want." Tom slithered his hand down Harry's chest until it found his groin. Only now did Harry notice his jeans lay pooled around his ankles and Tom's fingers touched his hard cock. 

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "I want." He leaned in for another kiss, and promptly fell off the couch, waking with a start. 

It took him a few moments to realize that no, he wasn't in Snape's office, and Tom Riddle wasn't there, and his jeans weren't trapped around his ankles, and it was all a dream. 

A fucking dream. 

"You complete bastard! What did you do that for? Stay out of my dreams."

_"What is it now?"_ Voldemort sounded cold and distant, nothing like he had done for the last few days. More like himself, really. _"I was asleep."_

"What are you trying to do, sending me this kind of dream?"

_"I didn't send – you dreamed? What did you dream?"_

Harry cheeks flushed, and he climbed back onto the couch. "Nothing," he murmured. "Forget I said anything." 

_"Oh no, we can't have that. Now let me see what has you up in arms."_ There was silence for a moment, in which Harry desperately hoped for a freakish indoor lightning strike that would put him out of his misery. No such luck. _"Ah. Well, this certainly is interesting."_

Harry reached for a pillow and buried his face in it. "It's just a stupid dream. It means nothing."

_"I beg to differ."_

Kicking against the couch, Harry pressed the pillow closer. "You have turned my life into a complete and utter mess, you know that? I can't see my friends, and I'm suddenly a Horcrux, and the whole world now thinks I'm queer, and I'll have to babysit you when we get back to Hogwarts, and it's just all so fucking messed up!" Harry threw the pillow across the room. 

_"Again with the dramatics. Come on, get up. You need to eat. This time I pick the restaurant. I can't believe the appalling way you look after your body."_

Harry snorted with laughter. "At least I still have mine!"

_"Yes, and I have yours, too. Get up, Harry. You've depleted a lot of your energy with our spellwork today."_

Sighing, Harry sat up. "Fine. But I get to pick the movie."

_"How about we try for one that doesn't involve saving of any kind?"_

"Ha bloody ha! If I wanted to save someone I'd – I would – I don't know anymore what I'd do. Bugger." Harry slumped out of the drawing room to go freshen himself up.

*--*--*

_"This was the final straw. We are not seeing any more Muggle movies."_

"I thought it was hilarious." Harry snickered. "The part with the bloke who lost his come and then she put it in her hair!" His shoulders shook as he tried not to laugh. It wouldn't do for Muggles to see him like this, laughing to himself. 

_"Please, Harry, how old are you? Three?"_

"I'm seventeen. But it was still funny."

_"You're eighteen. And no, it was decidedly not funny. It was banal and boring."_

"Right. I keep forgetting I had a birthday. And it wasn't boring. I heard you laugh at that part with the guy fighting that little dog."

_"Even the title is ridiculous. There is something about Mary? Honestly. They should have named it: There is something about the way Muggles lack a complete sense of humor and deserve to die violent deaths."_

"You're just a grumpy old wanker – ow! Stop that." Harry rubbed his forehead, and decided not to argue the point with Voldemort anymore.

As Harry sat on the tube, he definitely didn't think about that morning. How Voldemort had touched his cock. Or about what the _Prophet_ had written about him. Nor did he think about his dream and how kissing Tom Riddle had felt -- not bad at all, but Harry certainly didn't think about that.

No, Harry thought about the movie, which really had been funny and had put Harry in better spirits. And the French restaurant Voldemort had picked had been nice enough. Far more expensive than McDonalds, but then the food had been much better, too. 

God, Ginny was going to hate him for suddenly being gay. Perhaps, when all this was over, Harry could tell her his newfound sexuality had been nothing more than a case of temporary insanity, and she'd take him back. 

_"Are you still going on about this girl?"_ Voldemort said the last word as if it tasted dirty. _"It's best if you get over her. She's just another little trollop."_

"She is not a trollop," Harry muttered as he got off the train. 

_"Let's make a bet, shall we? I bet that your little trollop will be attached to another boy the day we return to Hogwarts."_

"She would never -- " Harry snapped his mouth shut as he recalled Ginny with Dean Thomas, and before that, Michael Corner. She wouldn't find a new bloke so quickly, would she? "No, she wouldn't," Harry said, more to convince himself than Voldemort. "What do you want to bet for?"

_"Honor. And that you'll stop whining about her when it turns out I am right."_

"If," Harry said. "Fine. But if I'm right, you'll stop whining about me whining about her."

_"It's a bet."_

As Harry turned the corner to Grimmauld Place, he noticed a shadowy figure standing under a tree near number twelve. Too tall to be any of his friends, and too broad to be Snape. Harry reached for his wand, but halted his hand at the last moment as the figure stepped into the light. 

"Evening, Harry," Kingsley Shacklebolt said. 

"Hi." Harry came to a halt near Kingsley and gave him a questioning look.

"Impressive spellwork," Kingsley said, gesturing at the front door. "I don't recall it being there the last time I was here."

Well, at least it seemed their spells were holding, if an Auror hadn't been able to break them. "Yeah, I like the extra protection."

"Extra protection? Harry, you've closed your house up tighter than a Gringott's vault."

Harry shrugged. "So why are you here?"

"Let's discuss this inside, unless you want another headline in the paper."

That thought alone sent a shiver down Harry's spine. "Sure." He let first Kingsley and then himself inside, and waved towards the drawing room. He joined Kingsley there and sat down on the couch. Kingsley remained standing. 

"It was the clerk. After you left the post office, a reporter went in and offered him 100 Galleons if he told them what you had talked about with me."

Harry shook his head. "That bastard."

"Well," Kingsley said, grinning. "I wrote him a 500 Galleon fine for animal cruelty. There was one owl that might have had mites. He'll think twice the next time."

"Thanks." Harry felt some relief, even though the whole idea of the article still bugged him to no end. 

Kingsley glanced around the room. "So where did you learn these spells?"

_"Get him out of here, Harry. You do not want him nosing into our spellwork."_

"Books," Harry said. "I've been practicing them the last couple of days."

"Really, just books?" Kingsley tilted his head as he stared at Harry. "That's quite admirable. I doubt even Albus Dumbledore could have cast spells as intricate as this."

_"Harry, do something now."_ Voldemort sounded threatening, and it made Harry flinch. 

_I don't know what to do_ , he thought, cold desperation settling in his stomach. 

_"Very well. But don't blame me for this later."_ And Voldemort took control over Harry's body, and Harry was left as a bystander while Voldemort got up from the couch and moved to stand closer to Kingsley. 

"Sirius' family left behind a lot of interesting books," Voldemort said. "I've been casting from those."

"But why all the protection? The house is still under the Fidelius."

Voldemort sighed. "Because Snape is a Death Eater. I don't care what the Wizengamot said and did. And he knows the location of my house. I just feel safer like this."

God, but Voldemort was good. Kingsley's expression softened at once. 

"You don't need to worry about Snape, Harry. He was on our side all along."

"And he tormented me in class for six years, so excuse me for not wanting him dropping by unexpectedly." Voldemort crossed his arms in a very Harry-like gesture. 

"It's all right. I get it. But keep casting like this, and you won't have any problems joining my department next year." Kingsley put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. Voldemort looked up at him, licking his lips. 

"I was wondering about something, actually, but I'm not sure if – it's difficult." How did Voldemort manage to sound like a bumbling teenager so convincingly? "Perhaps I should just show you." And Voldemort placed both hands on Kingsley's cheeks and kissed him on the mouth. 

Kingsley gasped, and pulled back at once. "Harry, no. Sorry, but I'm not like that."

"I'm sorry," Voldemort said, staring at his shoes. 

"Don't be. Just...we're friends, right. That's all."

"All right." Voldemort chewed on his lip. 

"I'll see you later, Harry." And Kingsley was out the door within seconds. 

Harry was still in a slight state of shock and hardly noticed Voldemort handing over the reins of his body to him. "What the hell did you do that for?" Harry asked, the moment he found his voice. 

_"Now he won't bother us again, because he feels too ashamed. Really, men like that Auror are easiest deflected when you hit them directly in their heterosexual pride."_

"You just kissed an Auror. You're unbelievable."

_"Technically, you just kissed an Auror, Harry."_

Groaning, Harry buried his face in his hands.

*--*--*

The next few days passed without incident. Or rather, without _further_ incident. Harry dragged Voldemort along to a few more museums, restaurants and movies, and much to Harry's relief, no one was waiting for him when he got home. Voldemort kept his paws off Harry's cock. Harry kept thinking back to it anyway, no matter how hard he tried not to.

Harry received an owl from Hermione, asking how he was doing. He sent it back to her with a bag of Galleons and a request to buy his school things, since he refused to set foot in Diagon Alley. They received an owl from Snape, telling them he'd acquired the necessary ingredients. Voldemort sent it back to him with instructions on how to handle the finances. 

They argued. They talked. Voldemort told him about magical history. It was a strange kind of peace, if peace was even the right word. 

At the very least, the number of death threats from both sides were now substantially reduced, which counted for something.

Harry didn't dream about Tom Riddle again, or if he did, he didn't remember it in the morning. 

"I think I'll stay in bed today," Harry said, rubbing his cheek against his pillow. "Far too comfortable to get up."

_"You are a lazy boy."_

"And you sound like Snape." Harry grinned at the snort that earned him. 

_"Why this sudden lack of motivation to go out and explore the world?"_

"Hogwarts starts in three days. I'm having a lie in while I still can." Harry rolled onto his stomach, wanted to stretch himself, but felt his hard cock poking the mattress. He shifted his hips, but that only made it worse. The slight friction made his balls ache. 

_"For pity's sake, Harry, take care of the problem."_

"No, I'm not doing that with you again." Harry squeezed his eyes shut. 

_"We might share your body for months and months to come. Do you honestly expect to go without release the entire time?"_

Harry buried his face deeper into his pillow. He liked wanking, he really did, and if he were honest, he couldn't imagine going without it for months. But doing it with Voldemort seemed so very wrong. Voldemort and pleasure didn't belong in the same sentence. 

_"It's just masturbation. It's not as if we're declaring our undying love in front of the entire world."_

That made Harry snicker. "Just imagine the looks on everyone's faces. I can see the headlines already. Boy Who Loved His Attempted Murderer."

_"It has a nice ring to it."_ Voldemort sounded amused. _"He Who Must Not Be Loved Snares Chosen One."_

Harry shook with laughter, and it only added friction to his groin. As his chuckles died down, his hips started moving on their own accord. "Don't," Harry groaned. 

 

_"I am not doing anything. It's all you."_

And it was. Harry knew Voldemort wasn't controlling him this time, but it was easier to think he wasn't getting off with Voldemort. He thrust his hips harder and harder, not thinking about anything or anyone, only concentrating on the feeling of his cock, trapped between himself and the mattress, burning with the need for release. 

Harry heard a soft moan, and he knew that wasn't him, since he was holding his breath. "Can you feel this?"

_"Oh yes."_

Now Harry groaned, and thrust once more, twice more, and spilled himself inside his pajama bottoms, his hands clutching at his pillow. It was just as intense as the last time, all this heat inside of him, burning him from the inside out. "God, is that you? Inside me? It's so hot."

Harry's skin tickled when Voldemort released a deep sigh. _"I imagine so."_

"Did you...er...you know, come?"

Harry's lips twitched, as if Voldemort was smiling. _"Yes."_

"Oh." Harry slowly opened his eyes. "It feels different. As if there's an extra orgasm in my head. Was it different for you?"

_"As if I was being surrounded by your orgasm."_

"Wow." Harry blinked. "It's not normally like that when you have sex with someone else, is it?"

Voldemort laughed. _"No, it isn't. I think we're a special case."_

"You can say that again." Harry burrowed deeper under the covers. "I'm going to sleep some more."

_"You get another hour. Then we're getting up to do something productive."_

"God, what are you now? My dad?" Harry squeezed his eyes shut the moment he realized what he'd said. He hadn't just said that. He really hadn't. 

Voldemort chuckled. _"I know for a fact I wasn't the one who conceived you."_

"No, you only killed the man who did," Harry whispered. "Now let me sleep."

They remained quiet after that, and Harry drifted closer and closer to the enticing darkness of sleep. 

The doorbell rang. 

Harry pulled the covers over his head. "Now what?"

_"You can consult our spells to see who is at your door, as I showed you."_

"Right." Harry stuck his hand out from under the covers, groped around a bit, and found his wand on his nightstand. He swished it. "Who is at my door?"

"Ronald Weasley. Hermione Granger," answered a soft voice, seemingly coming from nowhere. 

"I better see what they want." Harry managed to sit up, and stifled a huge yawn. "It had better be important." He pushed himself out of bed, put his glasses on, and shuffled towards the hallway. Voldemort suddenly took control over his wand and flicked it. 

"What are you -- " Harry fell quiet when a cleaning charm brushed over his groin. "Ah. Right. Thanks." 

_"Yes, we wouldn't want your dear friends to see the evidence of our little tryst."_

Harry's cheeks flushed. "It was just wanking," he muttered, feeling the control seep back into his arm. When he reached the front door, he took hold of the doorknob and waited a few seconds so the spells could identify him. Then he turned it and opened the door. 

"Mate, your floo's blocked," Ron said. He sounded worried. "We almost broke our necks."

"Yes, and when we tried to apparate in something threw us off and we landed ten miles away," Hermione added. "Someone has been messing with your house, Harry."

Harry opened the door further to let his friends in. "You're lucky you didn't get splinched."

Hermione stared at him. "You know about this?"

"Yep. Added the spells myself."

"You could have warned us," Ron said, affronted. 

"I was getting a little tired of people treating my house as if it were still public headquarters and barging in at all times of the day." Harry shrugged. "I prefer people to use the doorbell."

Hermione blushed at that. "We didn't realize it was a problem for you."

"Now you know," Harry said. "Tea?" And without further comment, he turned and walked down to the kitchen. He tapped the kettle with his wand and levitated three cups to the table. "So, what's up?" he asked when Ron and Hermione had taken seats. 

"You didn't hear yet?" Hermione was already digging in her pocket and pulled out the _Prophet._ "They're awarding you the Order of Merlin, first class!"

"Huh?" Harry stared at the newspaper as he poured out tea. "Whatever for?"

"Oh, come on," Ron said with a grin. "You bloody well know why."

_"See how hypocritical the Ministry is? They're rewarding you for committing murder."_

Harry frowned. "For Voldemort, then?" 

"Of course." Hermione beamed at him. "It's a great honor. They don't hand these out to just anyone."

Harry sank down in a chair and rubbed his face. "I don't care. I don't want it."

"But, Harry," Hermione said, sounding aghast. "They're having a special ceremony the evening before we leave for Hogwarts."

"I said I don't care." Harry slammed his hand down on the table. "What has the Ministry ever done for me? All they ever did was let me do their dirty work. And now they want to give me some medal for casting an Unforgivable."

Ron stared at him. "I don't think that's why -- "

"Because that is what I did. I cast the Killing Curse, and how does that make me better than any of them?"

_"It doesn't. It makes you one of us, my little Horcrux."_

Harry gritted his teeth.

"Harry, try to be mature about this," Hermione said in a lecturing tone. "The war is over. Just go along with this for the sake of keeping the peace in the wizarding world."

"Peace?" Harry snorted. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

_"Careful there, Harry. You don't want to let anything slip."_

"What is the matter with you, Harry?" Now Hermione sounded worried. "You've been acting so strange ever since you woke up from your coma."

"Perhaps it's because I don't enjoy being a murderer."

"But the prophecy -- "

Harry cut Ron off. "Fuck the prophecy. Just because some mad old bat predicted something two decades ago, everyone expected me to split my own soul and become a murderer. I've had enough of this. All I want now is to be left alone and live a normal life."

_"Calm down, Pinocchio."_

Hermione sighed. "But Dumbledore knew you could -- "

"Don't start about Dumbledore. He arranged for Snape to kill him right in front of me and didn't explain anything. Do you have any idea how I've felt this last year? How much I've _hated_ this last year? Dumbledore was always going on about how love would help me. Well, it didn't. It was sheer hatred that drove me, and now people want to give me a fucking medal for it."

"If you don't play along with this, the Ministry can make your life very difficult, Harry." Hermione gave him a stern look. "They could even keep you out of their Auror program."

Harry blinked. He hadn't realized that. 

_"The girl has a point. The last thing we want right now is for the Ministry to start openly persecuting you."_

"Well, crap," Harry said.

"Yeah," Ron said. "And we're going to be Aurors next year, right? I mean, you still want that, don't you?"

Harry nodded. He'd never considered any other career than that. 

_"Go and pick up this medal, and then we'll be free of the Ministry for the entire year."_

"I think you're right, Hermione," Harry said. "I suppose I could accept it. But I don't have to like it."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sipped her tea.

*--*--*

After having demanded at least three promises from Voldemort to behave himself, and after having listened to Ron and Hermione's inspiring pep-talk, Harry agreed to go to Diagon Alley with them. He needed new dress robes for the ceremony at the Ministry.

People pointed and called his name and demanded autographs, but Ron and Hermione flanked him as if they were his bodyguards. Something that amused Voldemort to no end. Well, at least he was having fun. 

"Mr Potter!" Madam Malkin bowed when Harry entered her shop. "We're so honored to have you here. Dress robes, I assume?"

"Yeah. And some Hogwarts robes as well." Harry got up on the little dais so Madam Malkin could use her tape measure.

"This one is lovely," Hermione said, holding up moss-green robes. Harry wrinkled his nose. "Or this," she tried, offering a set of navy-blue ones. 

"How about just black," Harry said. 

_"I couldn't agree with you more."_

_No one's asking you,_ Harry thought, and smiled when a tiny flutter made his scar tickle. _You're losing your touch._

_"No, I merely can't have you writhing on the floor in agony while we're in public. Wait until we're home, and I'll show you what I can do."_

Harry felt a flutter in another part of his body now, and he realized it wasn't Voldemort doing it. But for some reason his penis took Voldemort's words quite differently than the rest of Harry did. 

_"Well, I suppose I could show you that, too. You certainly enjoyed it the first time."_

_Shut up_. Harry smiled at Madam Malkin as she showed him a few black dress robes. "I like that one with the silver," Harry said, and Madam Malkin bustled away to adjust the robes to Harry's size. 

He wasn't thinking about what he'd done earlier that day, or what Voldemort had done a few days ago, or that stupid dream that still plagued him. 

_"Why, Harry, are you blushing?"_

"No," Harry said, even though his cheeks felt like they were on fire.

"Did you say something, Harry?" Hermione looked up from the rack of robes she was perusing. Ron was busy nosing through the Quidditch robes.

_"I'd almost forgotten how pleasant having an innocent little virgin can be."_

"I think we're done here," Harry said, and quickly walked to the counter to pay.

*--*--*

Two days later Harry lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling. It was early still, but he'd woken up and couldn't sleep anymore.

_"You're not very comfortable to be in when you're this tense."_

"I really don't want to go to that ceremony."

_"Yes, you have said that already. Several times."_

"But Scrimgeour's going to be there and I can't stand him."

_"No one can, Harry."_

"And there will be press and lots of other people who only want to gawk at me." Harry rolled onto his side. "I'm tired of being treated like some rare animal on display." He groaned. "And everyone will think I'm queer."

_"Get up. I want to show you something."_

Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What?"

_"Something that will help you relax. I want you to get up and stand in front of the large mirror on the inside of your wardrobe door."_

Frowning, Harry sat up. "You're not going to do anything freaky, are you?"

_"It's not going to hurt you. On the contrary. Get up, Harry."_

Harry's curiosity got the better of him, and he slipped out of bed and did what Voldemort asked of him. He stared at his reflection. He looked tired. "Now what?"

_"Close your eyes. Just for a second."_

Harry rolled his eyes before he closed them. 

_"Open them."_

Harry did, and immediately took a step back in alarm. There in the mirror, instead of his own reflection, stood Tom Riddle. Not as young as he'd been in Harry's dream, but more handsome than ever. He had to be in his twenties, and the most peculiar thing about him was that he was wearing an exact copy of Harry's striped pajamas. 

"How – what -- "

_"It's only magic. Just a little illusion."_

Harry stared at Tom, and Tom stared back.

_"Look at him. You think he's handsome, don't you? Would you like to see more of him?"_

Only hearing the question was enough to make Harry's cock twitch. 

_"I'll take that as a yes."_ And Voldemort took control of Harry's hand. He brought it down and pushed at Harry's pajama bottoms. In the mirror, Tom did the same, revealing pale skin covered in short, dark hairs, and nestled between them a generous half-hard cock. Harry's own cock was half-hard, and he gasped when Voldemort closed his hand around it. 

"This isn't -- "

_"Just enjoy it, Harry."_

His pajama bottoms fell to the floor, and Harry watched in stunned amazement how Tom's fingers closed around his cock and stroked it to hardness. Combined with the feeling of a hand working his own cock, the sight made Harry's knees buckle. He reached out and placed his free hand on the mirror's hard surface. Tom did the same, and if Harry tried hard enough he could imagine they were touching each other. 

_"Would you like that, Harry? His hands on you?"_

Harry groaned and thrust his hips into his fist. Or was it Voldemort's fist? He wasn't sure anymore where he ended and Voldemort began. Tom did the same. His hazel eyes narrowed and his lips parted, and he gasped for breath in time with Harry. 

Part of him knew he shouldn't enjoy this so much, but the rest of Harry was too busy staring at Tom's hard cock, how the foreskin moved across the slick head, spreading the tiny drops of pre-come. Harry had never considered the idea before, but at that moment he wished he could reach out and touch Tom's cock, stroke his fingers down the hard length, see what his testicles felt like cupped in the palm of his hand. 

_"I know he would like to touch you, too, Harry. Very much so."_

The hand around his cock moved faster, and Harry's legs felt weak. He leaned towards the mirror, so close his ragged breaths fogged up the glass. Tom did the same, and suddenly their mouths were almost pressed together, and Harry thought he could feel those lips on his, like they'd been in his dream. They were soft and -- 

Harry swallowed back a harsh groan as his hips bucked and his release shot across the mirror. Tom came too, and he looked beautiful, the way his eyes narrowed and his lips tugged up in a smile. Heat consumed Harry, Voldemort scorching him from the inside, and he pressed his lips to the mirror as he rode out the bliss with slow thrusts of his hips. 

Lowering his head, Harry closed his eyes. His cock gave a few twitches in Voldemort's hand, and then Harry got control back over it and released his spent prick. 

"God," he sighed. He opened his eyes again, and felt a pang of disappointment when Tom was gone and he stared at his own reflection. 

_"You'll see him again. We can play this little game as often as you want."_

Harry wasn't sure if he should want that as much as he did at that moment. "Enjoy wanking to your own reflection?" he asked, trying to rid himself of some of this awkward desire. 

_"No, I merely enjoy masturbating while I'm inside you. You're a very desirable young man."_

Had Voldemort just complimented him? Harry didn't know what to make of that. "Right," he said, and straightened himself as he stepped out of his pajama bottoms. "I think I'll just have a shower."

*--*--*

The Ministry's Atrium was packed. Rows and rows of chairs were placed in front of a small podium and all of them were occupied by chattering witches and wizards. There was even a small crowd standing in the back.

Harry tugged on the collar of his new robes. They felt too tight. 

"Stop fidgeting," Hermione told him. Ron merely grinned at him. 

"These robes are hot," Harry said. He didn't know where to look, because everywhere he saw people pointing or smiling at him. 

"The robes are fine, Harry." Hermione patted his arm. "You look great. Just relax."

"Harry!" Scrimgeour approached him with brisk steps. "Our guest of honor."

_God, someone please kill him,_ Harry thought. 

_"Perhaps later."_

Harry covered his snort of laughter with a cough, and shook Scrimgeour's hand. "Good evening, Minister."

"Let's not keep all these people waiting." Scrimgeour ushered Harry towards the podium, and Hermione and Ron took seats in the front row beside Mr and Mrs Weasley, who waved at Harry. 

To the side of the podium stood Percy Weasley, and a few other people Harry didn't know. "Good job, Harry," Percy said, as though they were the best of friends. Harry gave him a quick nod and stood beside Scrimgeour. 

"Welcome, everyone. The Ministry is grateful so many of you are here to share this happy occasion with us. It's not often the Ministry gets to award an Order of Merlin to a genuine hero. Our very own Harry Potter did what no one --"

Harry tuned Scrimgeour's voice out and stared blankly at some point in the distance.

_"Quite a crowd. Horrible speech, though. Scrimgeour's too obvious about winning votes for his reelection."_

Ignoring Voldemort, Harry saw Mrs Weasley dab at her eyes with a handkerchief. He sighed. 

_"It will all be over soon. And tomorrow, we're returning to Hogwarts. No one will bother us there."_

A few cameras flashed. People applauded. And Harry focused once again on Scrimgeour. Percy stood beside them (when had he climbed onto the podium?), holding a large, velvet cushion on which lay the biggest bloody medal Harry had ever seen. It was the size of a tea saucer. 

"And thus we present you, Harry Potter, with the Order of Merlin, first class!" Scrimgeour picked up the medal and attached it to Harry's chest. It probably had a sticking charm on it. Harry hoped it wasn't as strong as the one of Mrs Black's portrait had been. God, it had been a bitch to remove that painting.

"Thanks," Harry whispered, and shook Scrimgeour's hand. More cameras flashed, and more applause echoed around the atrium. 

"Now let's hear from our hero." Scrimgeour gestured for Harry to take center stage, and Harry stared at him, alarmed. 

_"He wants you to give a speech."_

_Huh? I can't give a speech. I haven't a clue what to say._ Harry was tempted to flee. He hated speaking in public. 

_"Very well. Allow me."_ And Voldemort took control of Harry's body. He smiled at the crowd, and Harry thought this had to end in complete and utter disaster. Voldemort was not a good choice for giving an acceptance speech. 

_"Watch me and learn, my little Horcrux."_

"Thank you so very much," Voldemort said. He even managed to sound sincere. "I am most pleased to be here tonight. I owe a lot to the Ministry of Magic. Had it not been for their policies, I never would have achieved what I did. Minister Scrimgeour's actions in particular have always aided me in reaching my goals."

Scrimgeour looked pleasantly surprised at that. Harry inwardly groaned. 

"But it's not just the Ministry I have to thank this evening. Our whole community has always made things easy for me. Your beliefs and convictions were the reason for my actions. I couldn't have done this without you. Thank you." And he gave a little bow.

People jumped up, applauding and cheering, and Scrimgeour slapped Harry on his back. "Brilliant speech. If you want to join us next year, Harry, we'll gladly have you." 

_"Why thank you, Minister. And every single word of it was true."_

Harry, who'd regained control over his body, offered Scrimgeour a weak smile, and quickly left the podium.

"Oh, Harry. We're so proud of you." Mrs Weasley pulled him into a stifling hug, and after that Harry spent half an hour shaking hands from both friends and complete strangers. He longed to go back home where things were simple and the most exciting part of his day was bickering about Muggle movies with Voldemort.

His life really had taken a strange turn when he considered spending time alone with Voldemort more pleasant then being around other people.

Finally, the stream of people wanting to talk to him subsided, and Harry saw an opening through which he could escape. "I'll see you tomorrow," he told Ron and Hermione, and apparated straight to his kitchen.

He sank down on to a chair and ran a hand through his hair. "God, I can't believe you with that bloody speech."

Voldemort chuckled, and it made Harry's toes curl. _"People will only hear what they want to hear. It's not very hard to use that against them."_

"Right," Harry sighed. He wanted to go to bed, but he felt too wound up to sleep. His thoughts drifted back to that morning, to their little game in front of the mirror. That certainly had relaxed him. 

_"There is no shame in asking for it."_

Harry frowned. Yeah, he wanted it, but it seemed so odd to want it. "You can't ever tell anyone about this."

_"Who would I tell? We're in this together, Harry."_

"All right." Harry shoved the chair back. "But this doesn't mean I'm suddenly queer, because I'm not."

_"Of course you're not."_ Voldemort did something that made the skin of Harry's back tingle. _"It's just a little wank between friends."_

"Exactly."

*--*--*

Harry left early the next morning to avoid the crowds at the platform. He easily found an empty compartment on the train, and he sat down away from the window. That way, no one would gawk at him from the platform. Too late he realized it wouldn't stop other students from gawking through the compartment door. Younger students skittered by, often pointing and giggling. Older students stopped to say hello, and a significant number of the female ones seemed very disappointed in him.

Checking his watch for the hundredth time that morning, Harry leaned back in his seat and waited for his friends to arrive. He felt restless with nervous tension and heavy with guilt. He knew he shouldn't take Voldemort to Hogwarts with him. Until now, everything had taken place in a controlled environment. A few museums and his own home. But Hogwarts seemed different. Sacred, somehow. And the idea of leading Voldemort there made Harry more than uneasy. But what other choice did he have? 

_"Stop it with the dramatics. We have a deal. I plan to keep my end of our bargain. You keep yours and nothing will go wrong."_

"You'd better."

_"And once we get settled in, we need to take a little trip to see Severus."_

"Why?"

_"I want to check up on his progress."_

Harry shifted in his seat. "I can't just leave Hogwarts whenever it pleases me."

_"Of course you can. We'll go in the evening. We'll take that handy cloak of yours and apparate to Severus' house. We'll only be gone for an hour."_

There was little to object to that, other than that it was _Snape_. But progress meant that Voldemort would be out of his head. Progress was good. "All right. But I need to see what my classes are like and how much homework I get."

_"I'll help you with that. Don't worry about any of it."_

Harry frowned. "You can't do all my homework, though. I can't suddenly be brilliant. But a little help would be good."

_"We'll see. You can always say your mysterious coma made you a genius."_

Shaking his head, Harry swallowed back a laugh. 

The compartment door slid open, and Harry looked up to see Neville and Luna. 

"Hi, Harry," Neville said, and seemed to falter for a moment. Harry waved them inside. 

"Hello, Harry." Luna plopped down on the seat across from Harry, and Neville sat down beside her. 

_"Friends of yours?"_

_Yeah, so behave yourself._ Harry gave Neville and Luna a tentative smile. "Hey."

_"This is the other boy the prophecy referred to?"_

Harry frowned. _How do you know who he is?_

_"I'm merely checking a few of your memories. Well, I can see now that I made the right choice."_

Harry plucked at the hem of his t-shirt. Both Luna and Neville stared at him. "What?" he asked, a bit annoyed.

"It's just hard to believe it's all over," Neville said.

Luna nodded. "That was a very interesting speech last night, Harry. Perhaps someone should check you for spells. Scrimgeour is notorious for confunding people he doesn't like."

Harry blinked. "I'm not confunded. I was just – I want to become an Auror next year and I need to be on the Ministry's good side. But how do you know about my speech?"

"We were there," Neville said. "You even shook our hands."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't really want to be there, and everything happened so fast, and -- "

"You looked very overwhelmed," Luna said. 

Harry smiled at her. "Yeah, that's about how I felt."

"So how was your summer?" Neville asked, and then seemed to realize what he'd asked. "I mean, after...you know, you killed him."

"All right. Different." God, wasn't that the truth. "I've been doing a lot of very normal, boring stuff, just because I could."

Luna tilted her head. "Boring stuff? Really?"

"Yeah, I went to a lot of Muggle museums. I liked the National History museum the best. They have an awesome collection of dinosaurs," Harry said, his enthusiasm for the subject coloring his voice. "There is this huge Tyrannosaurus Rex, and it -- " He closed his mouth when he noticed the blank looks on Neville and Luna's faces. "You know, dinosaurs?"

"Yes," Luna said. "They're related to Croatian Koshflorps, and they're the biological link between kelpies and fire-crabs."

_"What on earth is that girl -- "_

_Never mind, she's just being herself._ Harry looked at Neville, hoping to see some understanding there. 

"They're big lizards, right?" Neville tried, his cheeks flushing. 

"Well, sort of. Actually, the lizards we know today have evolved from dinosaurs," Harry said, feeling rather puzzled.

"Oh." Neville stared down at his lap. "Gran never wanted me to learn any of that Muggle stuff when she home-schooled me."

"It's not just Muggle stuff," Harry said. "Dinosaurs are part of the planet's history. I'm no expert, but I bet dragons evolved from them, too."

Luna shook her head. "Dragons were made by a wizard named Alexander Fyrebloom, when he tried to domesticate sea serpents. But something went wrong with his spellwork, and before he knew it, he'd created dragons. Everyone knows that."

_"For pity's sake, someone put that girl out of her misery."_

_Be quiet. She's just Luna. Mostly harmless, though often entertaining._ Harry nodded at Luna. "Right," he said, trying to sound polite. He did not understand, though, why Neville and Luna lacked any knowledge about something as basic as dinosaurs. His teachers at primary school had told him enough about them during history and biology lessons. 

_"These are pureblood wizards, Harry. The only thing they care about is magic. Something as trivial as what creatures inhabited the planet millions of years ago is of no matter to them."_

_That's just so ignorant_ , Harry thought.

_"To you, perhaps. To pureblood wizards it is of no concern."_

"So, what did you two do with your summer?" Harry asked, desperate for a change of the subject. 

And Luna told them about how she had helped her father with the _Quibbler_ , and Neville shared how he'd made a greenhouse in his gran's yard, and before Harry knew it, the train was well underway to Hogwarts, and he'd yet to see any glimpse of Ron or Hermione or Ginny. Well, he could understand Ginny not seeking him out. 

"I'm going to use the loo," Harry said, and got up. "I'll be back in a bit."

He strolled down the train; the corridors were mostly empty now as everyone had found seats. He glanced inside every compartment, trying to spot his friends, but all he saw were students who gaped at him the moment they recognized him. 

Until he passed a compartment and saw a flash of long, red hair that could only be Ginny's. Well, perhaps she knew where Ron and Hermione were. And he should apologize to her as well, though he wasn't sure anymore what for exactly. His entire life, perhaps?

He opened the compartment door and plastered a fake smile on his face. "Hi, Ginny. I was -- " His mouth fell shut when he noticed Blaise Zabini sitting beside Ginny. He was sitting awfully close, and when Harry glanced down he noticed Zabini's hand on Ginny's thigh. 

"Yes, Harry?" Ginny said coolly, and scooted even closer to Zabini. 

Something burned inside Harry, something that wanted to erupt as a Cruciatus Curse directed at that filthy Slytherin. He cleared his throat to steady himself, even though his hands balled into fists. "I was wondering if you've seen Ron or Hermione?"

"No, sorry." Ginny shrugged. "I've been with Blaise all morning." And she turned her head and placed a kiss on Zabini's mouth. 

Harry went for his wand, but something – Voldemort, he realized – maneuvered him away from the door and back inside the corridor. 

_"Stop it at once! Cursing that boy inside a train full of people will only get us into trouble. Save your vengeance for a more appropriate time."_

Harry was panting, struggling against the hold Voldemort had on him. "Let me go," he breathed, but Voldemort kept control over him and backed him away even further. 

_"I warned you, Harry. I told you that girl would jump the first boy she could get. It is time you let her go."_

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry inhaled breath after breath, but it did nothing to keep his mind from swaying. "I can't believe she just – but with Zabini?"

_"There isn't a creature as vindictive as a woman scorned, Harry. Remember that. You are better off without her."_

Harry snorted. "Since when do you know anything about women? You don't even like them."

_"Women have their uses, which is why I made it my business to understand them. It has nothing to do with my personal preferences."_

Sagging against a window, Harry tried to gather his thoughts. "So I suppose you won our bet."

_"Yes. Which means you are going to stop mooning over this girl."_

"It's your fault I'm mooning over – God, that's such a ridiculous word." Harry shook his head. "I'm going to find Ron and Hermione."

Harry found them in the prefects' compartment, which was empty save for them. Harry stared at them through the window. Ron and Hermione were snogging as if their lives depended on it. Harry noticed the Prefect's badge on Ron's chest, and the shining Head Girl's badge on Hermione's. 

_"They certainly seem...busy."_

Sighing, Harry turned to make his way back to his own compartment, but he only managed three steps before he heard the door behind him slide open. 

"Harry, sorry, we didn't see you," Hermione said. Harry turned to glare at her. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, mate, you know we had to meet with all the other prefects," Ron said, joining Hermione in the doorway. 

Right. He would have known that if his friends had told them about their positions this year. Well, it didn't matter now. "No, not really," he said, studying his fingernails. "Just that I saw your sister snogging Blaise Zabini a minute ago in a compartment up the train."

Ron's cheeks flushed maroon and he stormed past Hermione and Harry, wand out. "I'll teach that Slytherin bastard to keep his hands off my sister!"

Hermione dashed after him. "Ron, no!"

And Harry leaned against the compartment window, a satisfied smirk curling his lips. "Now we won't get into any trouble."

_"That's my little Horcrux."_

At the sound of shouting and hexes being fired a moment later, Harry tipped an imaginary hat at Voldemort, and strolled back to his own compartment.

*--*--*

"But with Zabini? A Slytherin?" Ron said for the twenty-second time that afternoon. Harry had been keeping count.

"Ron, leave it already," Hermione said. "Zabini wasn't involved in the war. If Ginny wants to hang out with him, she can."

Harry followed his friends into the Great Hall, but stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted the Head Table. There, in his usual seat at the very end, sat Snape. 

"Oh, look, it's Fleur," Ron said brightly. "I bet she's our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Strange Bill didn't mention that."

Harry hadn't noticed Fleur at all. His gaze was fixed on Snape, who turned his head and stared at him with unreadable black eyes. 

_"Well, this certainly is interesting. I wonder what our Severus will have to say for himself."_

"Ron." Hermione tugged on Ron's sleeve. "Look, it's Snape."

Ron's eyes widened. "What the hell is that bastard doing here?"

"Let's just go sit down. I'm sure McGonagall will give an explanation." Hermione tugged on Harry's sleeve as well, and he followed her to the Gryffindor table, though his eyes never left Snape. 

_Well, fuck,_ he thought. _Is he going to – is this going to – how are we --_

_"Calm down. He cannot betray us. The vow will make sure of that. We'll question him after the feast."_

Harry finally looked away from Snape as he sat down at the end of the table, Hermione beside him and Ron across from him. Ginny sailed by but ignored them, and took a seat with the other sixth-years. 

Turning in his seat, Harry glanced around the hall. One end of the Slytherin table looked very empty. Only Nott and Zabini were left from their year. Crabbe and Bullstrode were dead, Parkinson had fled the country with her family a year ago, Goyle was serving a life sentence in Azkaban for use of the Cruciatus Curse, and Malfoy had been sentenced to five years in Azkaban for allowing Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Apparently Snape had kept him out of the war, but he'd been unable to keep him out of the hands of the Wizengamot.

A few fifth and sixth year Slytherins were missing, too, but all the younger students were there. The other House tables seemed mostly complete from what Harry could tell. 

Another major difference this year was of course Dumbledore's absence. McGonagall sat in his – or was it hers now? -- chair at the center of the Head Table. Fleur was chatting with Sinistra and Sprout. Hagrid waved at him and Harry smiled in return. And Snape kept shooting him glances, though his composed expression didn't betray his thoughts. 

_"I imagine Severus will have a decent explanation for this. He knows better than to do anything without one."_

McGonagall got up from her chair when all students had found seats. "Welcome, students. I know many of you worried about your educational futures when Hogwarts closed a year ago. But with the war over and the danger vanquished, we're now able to continue your education where it left off. As you can see, there have been a few changes in the staff this year."

Glancing at her side, McGonagall smiled at Fleur. "Let me start by introducing your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Fleur Delacour."

Students applauded politely. Ron seemed more enthusiastic than Harry and Hermione, since he let out a little cheer. Fleur smiled generously at him. 

"Then there is a familiar face returning to the position of Potions master. Now I know some of you," McGonagall let her gaze rest on Harry, "may have questions about his reinstatement, but allow me to tell you that Professor Snape played an important part during the war and his role was vital in ensuring our victory. I myself am grateful and pleased Professor Snape agreed to return to Hogwarts on such short notice."

Harry gritted his teeth, and Ron groaned, but around them tentative applause sounded. 

"He'll never let you get away with using his book in class," Hermione said to Harry, and she sounded just a bit too satisfied with that. "You'll have to do all your work by yourself this year."

_That's what you think,_ Harry thought, and his lips twitched when Voldemort chuckled. 

"And lastly, please allow me to introduce my successor, your new Transfiguration teacher, Professor Hestia Jones."

The doors opened and in walked Hestia Jones, smiling winningly, followed by a horde of first-years. 

"She was with the Order," Hermione said as she applauded. "And she was a Hufflepuff student here years ago. I'm sure she'll do really well."

"Who cares," Ron said. "As long as she's not as strict as McGonagall."

Harry rather agreed with Ron, but he kept quiet and sat back to watch the sorting.

*--*--*

"I'm going to assist the first-years," Hermione said at the end of the feast, and darted off.

"I'll walk to the tower with you," Ron said. 

"No, that's all right. You can go and be a prefect." Harry needed time to discuss Snape with Voldemort, and thinking to him was a lot harder when someone was talking to him at the same time. "I'll walk up alone."

Before Ron could respond, someone cleared their throat behind them. 

"Mr Potter, I need a word," Snape said, looming over them. "Slughorn may have thought you a Potions genius, but you and I both know where your sudden talent came from. If you wish to remain in my class this year, I suggest we discuss remedial Potions at once."

"You stinking bastard," Ron said, balling his hands into fists. "You can't just -- "

"I can and I will, Mr Weasley. Now hurry along before I assign you a detention."

"You don't scare me, you bloody traitor. I'd like -- "

"That will be one week of detention with Mr Filch, starting tomorrow, Mr Weasley."

Ron looked ready to explode, and Harry quickly put a hand on his shoulder. "Ron, it's all right. Go help Hermione. I'll deal with Snape." He gave Ron a little shove in Hermione's direction, and finally Ron walked away, shooting Snape disgusted glances over his shoulder. 

"Let's talk," Harry said. Snape nodded and led him out of the hall towards an empty classroom nearby. Inside, Snape cast a few locking and silencing charms on the door and turned towards Harry. 

"My Lord, I beg your forgiveness -- "

"Don't call me that here, Severus," Voldemort said. "Address me as Potter at all times."

Snape inclined his head. "Very well. I beg your forgiveness. McGonagall visited me last night and all but begged me to return to Hogwarts. Slughorn refused to teach again, saying he deserved his retirement, and she was in urgent need of a Potions master."

"And you could not have discussed this with me first, Severus?"

Staring at his shoes, Snape shook his head. "She needed a reply at once, and I had no opportunity to contact you, since you both were at the Ministry at that time. But I thought that since you'll both be here this year, it would make communication a lot easier."

"True," Voldemort said. "However, you will have less time to devote to my potion."

"Unfortunately, that is correct. I will have better equipment, though, and easier access to ingredients."

"Yes, I can see how this arrangement will be beneficial to both of us. You will be free of any suspicion of dabbling in less savory magic while you're teaching students here. And you can devote your free time to my potion."

"Indeed," Snape said with a nod. He sounded relieved. 

"I do want you to sign Harry up for remedial Potions a few times a week. That way we can spend time together without anyone asking questions."

"Of course. I can't see McGonagall objecting to that." 

"Very well. We will see you in class, Severus," Voldemort said, and Harry felt him retreating to the back of his mind. 

"Professor," he said, as Snape aimed his wand at the door. "I want you to stop your bullying of me and my friends in your class. You don't have to treat us as your favorites, but stop being so bloody unfair."

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor, Potter," Snape said with a sneer. "I'll see what I can do." And with that he canceled the spells on the door and swept outside. "Tomorrow evening at seven, Potter, my office. We'll start your remedial Potions then."

"Bastard," Harry muttered, and sauntered out of the classroom. 

_"Yes, but a useful bastard."_

Harry couldn't disagree with that.

*--*--*

"It's so strange to be back here," Harry said. He lay in his bed and stared at nothing in particular, arms hooked behind his head. He'd cast a few silencing spells and sticking charms on his curtains to ensure their privacy.

_"It's certainly strange to stay in Gryffindor Tower, I'll give you that."_

"And with Snape back and everything. He'd better not make my life more difficult than it already is."

_"I trust Severus to show more respect for you this year. I will deal with him if he doesn't."_

Harry felt a sort of grim satisfaction at that. Now he had his own Dark Lord to hold over Snape's head. 

_"Your own Dark Lord?"_ Voldemort laughed, and it sent tingles through Harry's body. 

"Yeah, well, I don't see why I can't use you to my advantage for a change."

_"You can use me however you like, my little Horcrux."_

Harry licked his lips. "Can you...er...I know we don't have a mirror here, but I thought -- "

_"You need a little help relaxing. I can certainly provide you with that. Allow me to show you something new."_ And Voldemort lowered Harry's hands, as Harry kicked the sheets towards his feet. Voldemort made quick work of Harry's pajama bottoms, and then pushed Harry's index finger against his lips. 

_"Suck on that."_

Harry opened his mouth and sucked his finger inside, jerking his hips when his other hand closed around his half-hard cock. He didn't want to admit it, but having Voldemort jerk him off felt brilliant, as if someone else was touching him. His cock throbbed against his palm, and he sucked harder around his finger. 

_"Now spread your legs, Harry, and bring your knees up to your chest."_

Harry turned his head to the side so his finger fell from his mouth. "I'm not sure I want that."

_"You're going to enjoy this, I promise you. Just give it a try. If you don't like it, we won't do it again."_ Voldemort stroked Harry's cock a little faster, and Harry bit his lip to stop a moan from escaping. 

"All right. Just to see what it's like." Harry drew his legs to his chest. He felt weird with his bum exposed like that, but he was quickly lost in pleasure when Voldemort tightened his fingers around his cock. He hardly even noticed his other hand moving southwards, until he felt his wet finger brush across his pucker. 

"Oh, that's odd," Harry breathed, and yet he couldn't stop thrusting his hips in time with Voldemort's strokes. His finger pushed in a little, just the tip, and Harry jerked at the intrusion. 

_"Just relax, Harry. This will be brilliant."_

Harry closed his eyes and imagined Tom Riddle touching him there, Tom's hand on his cock and Tom's finger slowly pushing inside his arse, and perhaps even Tom's body on his, rubbing and thrusting and -- 

"Oh, hell," Harry gasped, as his finger touched a little spot inside him that made his cock pulse with heat. 

_"That's your prostate. Feels good, yes?"_ Voldemort sounded a little breathless, and it made Harry want to squirm with arousal. 

"Yeah. Don't stop."

_"Wouldn't think of it."_

Harry rocked against the hand on his cock, heat spreading from his balls, and the finger pushed deeper and deeper inside him, and Harry realized he was fucking his own finger, or was it Voldemort's finger? It didn't matter, not really, because it felt so good, so fucking good, and Harry thrust harder and Voldemort fisted him faster and Harry had no idea fucking your own finger was this brilliant. 

"God, yes," he groaned, and arched his back, forcing his finger deeper inside as he came. Hot strings of come coated his skin, and it didn't seem to stop, all this heat and power, yes, it was _power_ inside of him. 

_"It's our power, Harry."_

Harry nodded as the bliss receded in lazy waves. "It feels nice."

_"So you'll want to do this again?"_

"Yeah, think so." Harry groaned when Voldemort pulled his finger out. It didn't hurt, but it felt a little odd. Voldemort reached for Harry's wand under the pillow, cast a few cleaning charms, and then gave control back to Harry. 

_"Are you relaxed enough to sleep now?"_

"Yeah." Harry pulled the sheets up and turned on his side. 

_"Good night, my little Horcrux."_

"Good night, my little Dark Lord," Harry whispered with a grin. Voldemort laughed so loud at that, Harry's entire body shook.

*--*--*

Harry's first day of classes passed quickly, and for the most part Harry felt as if he'd never left. It surprised him how easy it was to slip back into the role of student after the turbulent year he'd had, especially considering Voldemort was there inside him every minute of the day. Voldemort quickly decided Harry did well enough by himself in Herbology and Charms, though he did provide interesting facts and helpful suggestions during Harry's classes. Not to mention a sharp critique of almost every student and teacher they met.

"I know who our new Head of House is," Hermione said as she joined Ron and Harry in the Great Hall for dinner. "Professor Greisenbloo."

Both Harry and Ron stared at her. 

"You know, from Ancient Runes?" Hermione released a exasperated sigh. "Anyway, McGonagall will introduce her to us this evening in the common room. She's very nice."

"Ah," Ron said, and returned to his meal. 

"I won't be there," Harry said. 

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "Don't tell me you've got a detention on your first day."

"No, that would be me," Ron said, grinning. "I won't be there, either."

"I've got remedial Potions." Harry poked at his potatoes, pretending to be miffed about it. "Snape seemed to think that without a certain book I'd be hopeless in his class, so he signed me up for extra lessons last night."

"Well, I can't say I disagree with that." Hermione turned to Ron. "And why did you get a detention?"

Ron leaned back in his seat, looking rather proud of himself. "Last night I called Snape a stinking bastard and a bloody traitor and -- "

"Honestly." Hermione started spooning carrots onto her plate, studiously not looking at Ron. 

_"She's very domineering, isn't she?"_

Harry gave a little shrug. _You'll get used to it._

_"I seriously doubt that."_

Harry hid his smile with a bite of peas.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry knocked on Snape's office door. It swung open a few seconds later, and Harry walked inside. 

"Potter. On time, for a change." Snape flicked his wand, and the door fell shut behind Harry. "McGonagall had no objections to your extra lessons."

"Very good," Voldemort said.

"I assume you will be assisting Potter during my classes?"

"Yes, Harry will receive my help should he need it."

"Good. Then I won't have to waste any time on the boy this evening." Snape gestured towards a door behind his desk. "I have set up your potion in my quarters." 

Harry followed Snape through the door. While he had quickly decided to lay back when Voldemort and Snape discussed Potions, he couldn't help feel curious about Snape's private rooms. 

They turned out to be nothing special. An average sitting room filled with the type of furniture you found everywhere around Hogwarts. The workroom Snape led them to looked like a smaller version of his classroom, only without the student tables. 

"I have encountered some problems," Snape said, halting behind a smoking cauldron. Harry stopped beside him so Voldemort could see what was going on. "I cannot get the phoenix tears to fuse with the other ingredients. I suspect I need more ingredients to make this work, though the ones I tried – dragon blood, crushed scarabs, and boomslang skin – only made matters worse. 

Voldemort stared into the cauldron. "Yes, I expected that. Unfortunately, my source was incomplete." He looked up at Snape. "You'll need to consult any and all translations you can find on this subject. I suggest you start by visiting Muggle university libraries."

"That will take time." Snape extinguished the fire below the cauldron. 

"I have time, Severus." 

"Very well." Snape dumped the cauldron in a nearby sink. "I suggest we continue this conversation in a more comfortable setting."

They took chairs in front of the unlit fireplace, and Snape summoned a pot of tea. Harry tried to keep up with Voldemort and Snape, but it was all talk about this potion or that potion, and Harry quickly lost track. He dozed, only half-hearing what was being said. It was strangely relaxing to let Voldemort control him for a while so he could retreat in his mind after a long day of classes. He had no idea how much time passed, and it wasn't until Snape uttered the word 'curfew' he snapped back to the present. 

"Yes, we should be getting back soon," Voldemort said. He placed his empty teacup on a side table. "However, I would like to make use of your services this evening."

"That would be my pleasure," Snape said with an odd gleam in his black eyes. 

Voldemort chuckled. "I suspect you've wanted to try out this body since you learned of my predicament."

"You are not incorrect." 

Harry wrestled himself to the surface of his mind. "Huh?"

_"Severus likes fit young men, Harry."_

"What?"

_"Don't tell me you don't want to see your Potions master on his knees, his lips wrapped around your cock."_

"Well." Harry honestly did not know what else to say. Snape liked men? Until just a minute ago, Harry hadn't even considered Snape to have a sexuality. "But -- "

"Potter, trust me, it is not you I want to pleasure." Snape got up from his chair, and lowered himself to his knees in front of Harry. 

_"Yes, our Severus enjoys pleasuring his master."_

"You mean, he's done this before?"

Snape rolled his eyes, placed his hands on Harry's knees, and parted his legs. 

_"Just enjoy it, Harry. Snape's quite talented with his mouth."_

Harry tried to move away, but Voldemort kept him in place, and Harry was forced to watch in a sort of horrified fascination how Snape opened a few buttons on his robes and pulled out Harry's half-hard cock. 

Snape, on his knees, sucking Harry's cock inside his mouth. Through the daze of feeling something hot and tight and wet wrapped around his prick Harry realized the sight was a very enticing one. Snape, that bloody bastard, on his knees in front of Harry Potter, the bane of his existence (or so Snape always claimed). 

_"Yes, I knew you'd see it my way. Just relax, Harry."_

And Harry felt some control flow back inside his body, and he thrust his hips up, tentative at first, but when Snape wrapped his fingers around the base of Harry's cock and moved them up and down in time with his lips and tongue, Harry became more daring. 

_I'm fucking Snape's mouth,_ he thought. 

_"We're fucking his mouth, my little Horcrux. For now. Next time, I'll show you other parts of Severus we can fuck."_

"Oh God," Harry moaned, his legs jerking. He grabbed at the armrests, trying to keep his body from bucking.

"Touch yourself, Severus," Voldemort said. Snape complied at once. He tugged on his own robes, and released his hard cock. Harry stared at it with wide eyes. He'd never even considered Snape to have a penis, let alone a hard one. A penis he was now stimulating as he swallowed Harry's cock down. 

It felt so fucking good, too good for something that Snape was doing, and Harry couldn't help but enjoy the hell out of it and want it even more. No one had ever touched him like that before. 

And Snape, on his knees! That thought, that _sight_ , sent a strange, addictive surge of dominance through Harry that gathered in his balls and cock. He thrust his hips up harder, and earned a surprised groan from Snape. It was the best sound he'd ever heard, and he wanted more of it, all of it. 

"Harder," he said, and gritted his teeth. "Suck me harder, Snape."

Snape's black eyes glanced up at him as he apparently realized it was no longer Voldemort who was in control of him, but Harry. At the feeling of teeth raking across his hard shaft, Harry shot one hand out, curling his fingers in Snape's long, greasy hair. Snape moaned, and allowed Harry to pull his head closer and swallow even more of Harry's cock. 

"Oh fuck yes," Harry groaned. He knew he was in control, and yet he felt helpless at this sudden desire that burned inside of him. He'd never considered this, never thought about letting a man suck his cock, never imagined Snape on his knees in front of him working his own cock with swift strokes, but now that it was happening, Harry didn't know if he could ever want anything else ever again.

It was an addictive sort of power that Harry knew should scare him, and yet all he felt was heat and want and _more, give me more_. 

He thrust his hips up once, twice, and shot his release down Snape's throat, his body first stiffening and then melting in his chair. Snape swallowed and swallowed, and jerked around Harry's cock as he came as well, his semen spurting across the stone floor. 

"Fuck," Harry gasped. Snape pulled away from him and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He didn't bother tucking Harry's spent prick away, but stood to adjust his own clothing. Harry felt too exhausted to move. 

_"Did you enjoy that, my little Horcrux?"_

"Yeah," Harry said. He managed to fumble his prick back inside his pants and robes. Now that it was over, he didn't like the idea of being that exposed in Snape's sitting room. And now that it was over, it was hard to believe he had enjoyed it that much. 

Snape sucking him off. Somehow, that made Harry want to laugh. 

_"Come, we must go."_ Voldemort forced Harry up from the chair, and Harry took a few wobbling steps before he found his balance. 

"If that is all?" Snape asked. He looked as composed as ever, as though he hadn't just had a student's penis in his mouth. Or a Dark Lord's. It was hard to tell which was which. 

Voldemort approached Snape, and placed Harry's hands on Snape's cheeks. "You did well, Severus," he said, and leaned closer to brush his lips across Snape's. 

Harry drew back in surprise, which got him a sneer from Snape. "I'll see you in class tomorrow, Potter."

"Yeah," Harry said, and hurried out of the sitting room. "Did you have to kiss him?" he asked in Snape's office. 

_"Yes."_

Harry snorted, and pulled the door to the corridor open. "I liked the other thing just fine," he said, after making sure no one was lingering nearby. "But the kissing, not so much."

_"You're only now starting to learn about these kind of pleasures, Harry. You'll appreciate all of them in due time."_

Harry ignored Voldemort's comment, though he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened in Snape's sitting room. Snape, a teacher, a Death Eater, a traitor, had sucked him off. He'd had Harry's penis in his mouth and he'd swallowed Harry's come. Somehow that thought was both horrifying and titillating, and it confused Harry so much he didn't notice he was being followed.

"Potter," a voice said behind him when he'd almost reached the stairs. "Not very smart of you to stroll around the Slytherin dungeons by yourself."

Turning around, Harry saw Theodore Nott standing behind him with his wand out. "What do you want?" he asked, and lowered his hand slowly to reach for his own wand. 

"You got my father killed," Nott said. "It's time you paid for that."

Harry frowned. "Your father died while trying to escape from Azkaban. I had nothing to do with that."

"You sent him there in the first place!" Nott raised his wand, just as Harry got hold of his own. 

" _Crucio!_ "

Nott slammed to the floor as it dawned on Harry he hadn't uttered that curse, but Voldemort had. Nott thrashed against the stones, shrieks and cries spilling from his lips. Keeping his wand aimed at Nott, Voldemort sauntered closer and didn't end the curse until he was standing over Nott, both feet on either side of Nott's body. 

"That was a very foolish thing to do," Voldemort said, glaring down at Nott. 

"You – you – a Cruciatus – I'll tell -- "

"Oh, please do," Voldemort said. "Run along to your Head of House."

Nott swallowed and tried to crawl away, but Voldemort placed one foot on his chest and pressed him to the ground. "I won't tell that traitor anything! He was on your side all along. He betrayed us all."

"Yes, I've heard." Voldemort smirked and tilted his head in a silent dare. "Why don't you tell Headmistress McGonagall then?"

"I will!" Nott tried to move away again, but Voldemort slid his foot from Nott's chest to his throat, forcing him down once more. 

"No, you won't," Voldemort said. "And I'll tell you why." He leaned a little closer to Nott's face. "No one is going to believe you. Go to the Headmistress. Go to the Ministry for all I care. Who do you think they'll believe? Harry Potter, who just got awarded the Order of Merlin, first class, for defeating the most powerful wizard in this world, or a pathetic little inbred Death Eater sympathizer such as you?"

Nott shook his head, and scurried away the moment Voldemort withdrew his foot. "You can't just go around using Unforgivables here, Potter."

"I think I just did. And you aren't going to stop me." Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "In fact, if you ever pull your wand at me again, I'll make it a Killing Curse and no one will find your body. Make sure you tell all your little Slytherin friends what they can expect if they try to go up against me."

"You're mad, Potter!" Nott scrambled to his feet and hurried into the darkness of the dungeons. "You're bloody mad!"

"Jesus Christ," Harry said when he found he could use his voice again. "You used a -- "

_"Don't get all hypocritical on me now, Harry. You didn't hear me complaining when you used it on Severus."_

"No, that's not what I meant." Harry lowered his voice to a whisper. "You used one at Hogwarts."

_"I see no problem with that. He's not going to tell anyone, not even his fellow Slytherins. It would make him look very weak to admit Harry Potter managed to curse him."_

Harry inhaled a shaky breath. "I can't believe you. You could have just petrified him or something."

_"Never give your adversaries just one chance, Harry. Never allow them to think you are not willing to go as far as they are prepared to go."_

"Yeah, but -- "

_"Do you think he would have just petrified you?"_

Harry shook his head. 

_"Now then. We only made sure he won't try anything foolish with us again."_

When Harry didn't move, Voldemort took control again. He walked up the stairs, and ducked into the first empty classroom he could find. 

_"Here's another lesson for you. Aurors never check back any further than twelve spells. That's why you should always cast at least twenty after using an Unforgivable."_ And Voldemort proceeded to cast silencing charms and levitation spells and a stinging hex and every other type of magic an average Hogwarts student would use during his day. He ended with a firm ' _Finite Incantatum'_ , and gave Harry the control over his body back. 

"All right. I can see why you'd want to curse Nott like that. But I'd appreciate it if you kept the Unforgivables down to an absolute minimum while we're at Hogwarts."

_"I promise. Cross my heart."_

"You mean, _my_ heart."

_"Our heart."_

"Now you're sounding soft," Harry said with a grin. Voldemort's laughter echoed in his mind as he walked back to Gryffindor Tower.

*--*--*

"Harry, over here!" Hermione waved him towards a table in the corner of the common room.

As Harry sat down, Ron gave him a concerned look. "How was it? Snape as nasty as ever?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry said vaguely. "Snape was nasty."

"I bet he didn't make you scrub toilets, though," Ron said, and he took off on a detailed description of his detention with Filch. Harry, meanwhile, glanced around the common room and felt quite exposed, as if he had a big sign hovering over his head that said: I just got my cock sucked by Snape, and after that I cast a Cruciatus on a Slytherin.

_"Don't be ridiculous. None of these students here are gifted with Legilimency."_

Harry pursed his lips to hide his snort. _How do you know?_

_"I checked."_

Harry's eyes grew wide, and Ron gave him a confused look, so Harry quickly grunted his agreement that having to scrub toilets without magic was indeed the foulest task on the planet. 

_Have you been looking into people's minds?_ he thought.

_"Little peeks here and there to make sure no one is suspecting us."_

"Oh, Professor Greisenbloo asked me to give you this," Hermione said, and slid the Captain's badge across the table. "She also said to tell you she expects you to handle the tryouts."

"Thanks." Harry rubbed a finger across the badge. He'd missed Quidditch. "But I'm not holding tryouts."

"Why not?" Ron asked, his ears turning pink. "Are you just going to assign players?"

"Don't be ridiculous. We had a great team in our sixth year. We'll just continue with that one."

"But Katie Bell has left school," Hermione said. She sounded a little disapproving. 

"Dean can play Chaser." Harry turned around in his seat and looked at Dean, who sat on the couch with Neville and Seamus. "Oi, Dean! You want to play Chaser this year?"

Dean grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.

"That's settled then," Harry said, and turned back to Ron and Hermione, who were both staring at him. "What?"

"Well, honestly." Hermione focused her attention on her homework. 

"So I'm on the team? Again?" Ron asked. Harry nodded. "Thanks, mate."

"I'm going to bed," Harry said. "Full day tomorrow." And Snape sucking his cock had taken it out of him, but he didn't say that. When he felt his cheeks flush, he wished he hadn't thought it, either. 

"Yeah, I'm...er...going to stay for a bit," Ron said, and gestured discreetly at Hermione. 

"Sure. See you tomorrow." Harry trotted up the stairs to their dormitory. He changed into his pajamas, crawled into bed, and cast a few spells and charms on his curtains to keep prying eyes away. 

"Do you like Quidditch?" he asked, as he lay down on his back and stared at the Captain's badge in his hands. 

_"Not particularly."_

"You never played while you were in Hogwarts?"

_"No, I was too busy becoming a Dark Lord. I didn't have time for sports."_

Harry noticed the teasing edge to Voldemort's voice and grinned. It was becoming easier and easier to recognize Voldemort's moods these days. "Yeah, too busy playing with your Basilisk, I bet."

Voldemort chuckled. God, Harry had no idea why that felt so good, like someone tickling their fingers across his back. _"Yes, among other things."_

"How old were you when you first had sex?"

_"If by sex you mean intercourse, then the answer is sixteen."_

"Girl or boy?"

_"Boy, of course. I've never been interested in girls. Though Minerva McGonagall asked me to Hogsmeade once. I think she was a little sweet on me."_

The idea of McGonagall asking Voldemort out sent Harry into an outright giggle fit. _"Did you accept?"_

_"No, I politely declined."_

"So you've never had sex with a girl? Ever?"

_"You're very talkative tonight, aren't you? No, I haven't."_

Harry thrust a victorious fist into the air. "Ha! Then you're a virgin as well. Sort of."

_"I had forgotten what it's like to be young and measure everything in life by whether someone is a virgin or not."_

"Yeah, you're kinda old, aren't you?" Harry smirked at the rather playful twitch from his scar. "Seventy-two, right?"

_"Seventy-one, thank you very much. My birthday isn't until December."_

Harry rolled onto his stomach and placed the badge on his nightstand. He folded his arms beneath his head. "Does what I did tonight with Snape count as sex?"

_"He sucked your cock. I certainly think so."_

"Oh. So I had sex with Snape. That's very...odd." 

_"Perhaps. I think of it as pleasurable."_

"It was all right. So you've been having sex with Snape for a while?"

_"Severus was an eager boy when he first came to me, and like myself, he preferred men. It was a mutual decision."_

"So you never...er..." Harry plucked at his pillow. 

_"Forced him? No. Contrary to what you might think of me, I like my partners to be willing."_

"That's...good." Harry found a loose thread in his pillow's seam and tugged on it. "You know what's also odd?"

_"What?_

"Us talking like this. Making jokes. You're my enemy. I know that. This can't be normal."

_"Well, I suppose sharing a body creates a certain amount of familiarity."_

Harry considered that. "So did you discuss your sex-life with Quirrell?"

Laughter ran down Harry's spine like drops of warm oil. _"No, I did not. But you're not Quirrell. You are far more important to me."_

"Yeah, keeper of your soul and all that." Harry rolled onto his back again. "It's a very strange idea to be a Horcrux. Just as strange as having only a few parts of your soul left, I suppose."

_"I wouldn't know. I've never been a Horcrux."_

"True." Harry reached down and pulled the sheets up. "You're still my enemy. Doing stuff together doesn't change that."

_"I know."_

Harry remained quiet for a while, letting the evening's events pass through his mind. "Something I hadn't realized before," he finally said when his thoughts focused on their encounter with Nott. "That Snape must have a hard time with some of his Slytherin students. What with him being a traitor."

_"Just punishment for his treachery."_

"Yeah, maybe." Harry closed his eyes. "What will happen when you get your body back?"

_"That's too delicate a subject to discuss now, Harry. Go to sleep."_

"Night, Tom."

_"Good night, Harry."_

*--*--*

The Potions classroom no longer held Slughorn's cozy tables, but individual desks.

"Snape really is back," Ron said morosely as they entered the room.

"Indeed, Mr Weasley." Snape swept inside after them. "Sit."

They found seats beside each other, and Harry studiously did not look at Snape, because he knew he'd blush when seeing the man's face, or rather, his lips, and once he did he knew he'd remember how they'd felt around his cock the previous night, and once he did that he could kiss a proper potion goodbye. And he shouldn't think about kissing, either. 

_"Harry, it was just sex. And sex is never worth letting it influence your concentration."_

_Easy for you to say,_ Harry thought, and opened his bag to take out his scales and potions kit, and his brand-new copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_.

"No books." Snape stood beside a table which held a dozen or so trays stocked with bottles and jars. "You are expected to brew any potion this year without the aid of your book or any additional instructions."

Ron paled. "But -- "

"No buts, Mr Weasley. You are a NEWT student. If you feel you cannot comply with this class' requirements, you are of course free to leave." Snape gestured at the door and gave Ron a daring look. "You are expected to prepare for your lessons prior to class."

Even Hermione looked a little worried. Slughorn usually allowed them to use their books when it came to the more difficult potions. Apparently Snape wasn't going to be so lenient. Not that it surprised Harry. 

"Today you will brew a potion comprised of these ingredients." Snape indicated the trays. "These ingredients are the basis of one specific potion. It is your task to identify this potion and brew it. You have two hours, starting now."

"He can't be serious," Ron whispered as they joined the others to collect a tray each. 

Hermione studied her tray for a few seconds. "It's Veritaserum," she said. "See? These are jobberknoll feathers, and that's occamy blood."

"There will be no need for talking, Miss Granger," Snape said, sneering. 

_I hope you know how to brew Veritaserum,_ Harry thought. _Because I sure as hell don't._

_"I do. However, these aren't the ingredients for Veritaserum."_

Harry blinked. _They're not?_

_"Smell the blood."_

Harry gave the jar of blood a good sniff. It smelled like blood; coppery and heady. But there was something off about it. For some reason, the blood reminded him of Liquorice Wands. 

_"Very good. This is re'em blood. It has a whiff of anise. These are the ingredients for a Memory Potion."_

Harry tried to catch Hermione's attention to tell her this, but Snape was watching them like a hawk. 

_"Start with the blood, get it to simmer, then add the jobberknoll feathers."_

Harry did as Voldemort told him, and took a moment to look around. Hermione seemed to know what she was doing, but Ron was desperately trying to glance at Harry's desk. However, Snape kept patrolling the isle between their desks, and Harry feared Ron was in for disaster. 

_"Now this is a very important part. Both bloodroot and thornapples are poisonous. That is why you need to crush them in the jar of bitter ash tonic to neutralize their poisons."_

Again, Harry did as he was told. _So what does a Memory Potion do?_

_"It will allow you to concentrate for a few hours at a time."_

Harry wasn't very impressed. He'd expected something more spectacular.

_"It is a very useful potion when doing research, as you'll be able to skim through great amounts of text searching for a handful of clues to whatever you're looking for. Besides that, the potion will also allow you to search your memory more efficiently and quickly, and you'll remember new facts more easily."_

Something dawned on Harry. _Snape needs to do research for your potion._

_"Yes, I expect he'll bottle your Memory Potion after class and put it to good use. Now you need to add the dried toadflax."_

For the next hour-and-a-half, Harry chopped and stirred and cut and diced until his potion came to a simmer one final time and turned a very light yellow. 

_"Perfect."_

Harry smiled and sat back, glancing at everyone else's work. Ron's cauldron was steaming and giving loud, smelly burps, and Hermione kept muttering about how her potion wasn't supposed to be red at this stage. 

_"She forgot to detox her thornapples, something you wouldn't do when brewing Veritaserum."_

Snape swept past Harry's desk, taking a quick look at his cauldron. He didn't comment, and moved on to Ron's desk. 

"And what is this supposed to be, Mr Weasley?" Snape pointed at Ron's cauldron with his wand.

"Veritaserum," Ron said, and even managed to sound confident although his cauldron was now hissing. 

"That is not Veritaserum." Snape waved his wand, and Ron's potion disappeared. "No marks for you today."

Snape stalked over to Hermione's desk. "And what do you have to say for yourself, Miss Granger?"

Hermione sighed and stared at her cauldron. Her potion was now an odd brown color, like clotted blood. "I don't know what went wrong, sir. I've revised the entire book over the summer and I know how to brew Veritaserum, but -- "

"Then perhaps you should have revised a little bit more, so you'd have known you weren't supposed to brew Veritaserum."

Hermione stared at Snape with her mouth opened, as though he'd just told her the sun wouldn't rise the next day. 

"No marks for you." Snape flicked his wand again, and Hermione gasped at her suddenly empty cauldron.

"Mr Potter, kindly inform this class what potion you have brewed," Snape said, moving back towards Harry's desk. 

"A Memory Potion, sir," Harry said. He couldn't help but feel a little smug that he appeared to be the only one who had got it right, no matter that Voldemort had done most of the work. 

"Indeed. A Memory Potion. And how did you deduct that was the potion you were supposed to brew?"

"The blood smelled like anise, which makes it re'em blood, not occamy." Harry was pleased with himself. He'd managed not to think about his dick or Snape's mouth when looking up at Snape and answering the question. 

Snape gave a sharp nod. 

"But Memory Potions aren't in our book," Hermione said. 

"I am well aware of that, Miss Granger. This lesson shows you that Potions consists of far more than merely revising a book and memorizing recipes. And seeing that only Mr Potter managed to get it right, I can't help but conclude none of you have learned anything during your sixth year." Snape turned and marched to his desk. "You are dismissed. I want twelve inches on Memory Potions this Wednesday. Potter, leave your cauldron behind."

"How did you know that?" Hermione asked suspiciously when they exited the classroom. 

"Perhaps I actually learned something while using the Half-Blood Prince's book. But I'm not surprised you didn't notice that. You were too busy accusing me of cheating." Harry didn't like lying to his friends, but on this occasion he didn't mind as much, seeing as Hermione's accusations in his sixth year still stung. 

"Well, I never meant – I can't believe Snape did this. He could have at least told us we'd be working on potions not in our book, so I could have visited the library last night and read up on a few things." Hermione sounded quite distressed, and Ron gave Harry a hopeless look.

*--*--*

Ron and Harry had a free hour after lunch while Hermione took off to Arithmancy. They decided to spend it outdoors, since there was still a gentle late-summer breeze, and they were well aware how quickly the weather could become cold and wet in Scotland.

They strolled up to the lake and talked about Quidditch. Voldemort kept quiet, and seeing how he didn't like Quidditch, Harry wasn't surprised by his uncommon silence. The peace and calm in his head did offer Harry the rare opportunity to see himself as the ordinary Hogwarts student, and not the hero of the wizarding world who was keeping a horrible secret. 

"I'll let Ginny know you want her on the team as a Chaser," Ron said, and Harry gave him a relieved smile. It was easier if he kept away from Ginny, and even though Ron didn't know the real reason, he did seem to understand Harry's need to do so. 

"And Slytherin will have an inexperienced team this year," Ron said. He threw a pebble into the clear water at their feet. "I'm sure we'll beat their arses."

"Yep," Harry said. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked out over the lake. 

"Are you all right?" Ron asked suddenly, glancing at Harry. "I mean, you seem a little different sometimes. Is it...you know...the queer thing?"

_Well, Ron, I have a Dark Lord stuck in my head,_ Harry thought. _And Professor Snape sucked my penis, and I let Voldemort finger-fuck me up the arse._

That got him his first response from Voldemort in half an hour. A warm chuckle made the hairs on Harry's neck stand up. 

He shook his head. "Not really. I mean, it's been an insane year, and now we're back here. I think I just need some time adjusting."

"Right." Ron flipped another pebble into the lake. "But how did you know? About the queer thing, I mean."

Harry frowned. His first instinct was to deny everything, but when he thought about it he really couldn't. Not anymore. He'd enjoyed having a man suck his cock. He'd enjoyed having a finger up his arse while Voldemort jerked him off. Harry wasn't sure what that made him, but completely straight wasn't it. 

"I dreamed about someone," he said, staring down. Small waves licked at his shoes. "About a bloke, I mean. Doing things with him. And I kinda liked that idea."

"Ah." Ron nodded, as though he understood. "Anyone I know?"

"Huh?"

"The bloke you dreamed about?"

"No." Harry grinned. It was the truth. Ron had never met Tom Riddle. "Do you ever think of other blokes as handsome?"

Ron shrugged. "Well, I can tell if a bloke is handsome or not, I suppose. But I don't walk around thinking it all day."

Harry considered that. He didn't really walk around all day thinking it, either, but he'd always thought Sirius had been very handsome when he'd been younger, and then there was Tom Riddle. There was no getting around the fact that Harry had thought Tom was handsome. A lot. As in every time he saw the bastard.

"But you've never seen a bloke you thought was handsome and then wished you could see more of him? Like, certain parts? And then maybe want to touch those parts?" Harry asked, thinking about his little games in front of the mirror with Tom Riddle. 

Ron looked at him with wide eyes. "No, I can't say I have."

"Oh." Harry frowned. "Then I think I'm really not completely straight."

"That's all right," Ron said with a firm nod. He threw a few more pebbles into the lake. "Let's get back. I told Hermione I'd meet her after her class."

They walked back towards the castle in silence. Harry felt too shocked to speak. He'd just more or less confessed to Ron he wanted to do things with certain blokes, and Ron hadn't freaked out about it. In fact, Ron seemed to take the news better than Harry himself. It still bothered him he'd actually liked doing those things with Tom and Voldemort and Snape. Or perhaps it wasn't so much the things he'd done, but the people he'd done them with. 

Whatever the case, it confused Harry to no end, and he really hated feeling that way. 

"Look, it's Potter the pouf."

Zabini and Nott sat on the grass under a large beech tree. Nott seemed a bit nervous, but Zabini made a show of smirking at Harry and Ron. 

"Shut it, Zabini," Ron said, sounding tired. 

"Defending your little fairy friend, Weasley?" Zabini leaned forward, resting his elbow on one drawn-up knee. "I bet you let him suck your dick in your dormitory."

Ron's cheeks flushed, and Harry put a hand on Ron's arm to hold him back. 

"Give it a rest, Zabini," Harry said. He grinned when he saw Nott tugging on Zabini's sleeve, apparently trying to warn him. 

"Don't talk to me, you fucking fag," Zabini said, and pushed himself up to his feet. 

"I may be a fag, but at least I'm not a pathetic little coward like you are," Harry said, and slipped his hand in his pocket around his wand. "Honestly, I have a lot more respect for Malfoy and Goyle than I have for you. At least they picked a side, and they fought. They didn't crawl under a rock like you did, too scared to show your face because there was a war going on."

Zabini's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, you're the hero, Potter. You got the medal. But I got your girl."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn't think of anything to say because the idea of Zabini and Ginny together still made his chest ache. He was about to close his mouth when Voldemort took over. "You think you got my girl?" Voldemort said. "All you got are Harry Potter's leftovers."

Zabini went for his wand, but a split-second later he was jerked up in the air, feet first. Harry glanced at his side and saw Ron with his wand out. 

"Let's go," Ron said, and hauled Harry away from a swearing Zabini and a hesitant Nott. "If you ever call my sister a leftover again, I will smash your face in." Ron stopped and glared at Harry.

"I didn't mean it like that. I was just trying to insult Zabini," Harry stammered, unsure what the hell had just happened. 

"That doesn't mean you have to insult Ginny as well. It's not her fault you're suddenly queer." And with that, Ron turned and stomped towards the entrance doors. 

"You fucking bastard," Harry said when Ron had disappeared inside the castle. "What did you do that for?"

_"You already gave the answer, Harry. I insulted that Slytherin boy."_

"You insulted my best friend's sister." Harry kicked at the grass in frustration. "Stay out of my business. I was handling Zabini on my own."

_"Yes, and one choice insult about your little girlfriend turned you into a mute and thus gave your adversary an advantage over you."_

"Not everything is a battle!"

_"That is where you are wrong, my little Horcrux. Life is war."_

"You're insane. Don't talk to me. Just leave me alone." Harry took off towards the entrance hall, wondering how on earth he was going to make this up to Ron. 

_"Forget about that boy. You don't need him."_

Harry couldn't resist. "He's my friend. Not that that means anything to you. You've never had a friend in your life."

_"I had one. You killed her."_

Stumbling, Harry came to a halt. "You mean..."

_"Yes, I mean Nagini. You killed my only friend, Harry."_

Somehow that extinguished some of Harry's anger. "That still doesn't give you the right to insult Ron or anyone else."

_"Just be glad I'm not doing to your friend what you did to mine."_

Harry didn't respond to that and continued his trek to the castle in silence.

*--*--*

_"Harry, we really need to visit the Restricted Section,"_ Voldemort said for the third time that evening. Harry ignored him and concentrated on his Potions essay. With everything Voldemort had told him during Potions that day, Harry found he had no trouble writing it. Hermione was paging through various tomes looking for information, and Ron kept trying to peek at Hermione's parchment.

The problem was, Hermione and Ron were doing those things at a table in the corner of the common room, while Harry was sitting on the couch. Ron hadn't talked to him during the rest of the day. He had apparently informed Hermione what was going on, since she kept shooting him disapproving looks.

_"Harry. We must visit the Restricted Section tonight."_

_Shut up,_ Harry thought. _I'm almost done with my essay. We'll go after that._

_"Very well. Your essay looks good."_

Harry pressed his quill down a little harder while scribbling down his final paragraph. He stuffed his parchment and quill inside his bag, shouldered it, and left the common room. He noticed Hermione staring after him. Well, if they asked questions, he could always say he was shagging some bloke from a different House. 

_"You will be shagging a bloke from a different House soon."_

"Not now." Harry pulled his invisibility cloak from his bag and swept it over himself. "We're not discussing sex or Snape this evening."

Voldemort remained silent until they reached the library. It was already closed for the evening, but Voldemort unlocked it easily enough with Harry's wand. 

"What are we looking for?" Harry asked as they sneaked into the Restricted Section. He made sure he kept his voice down. 

_"Soul Magic. And any references we can find to it."_

Harry allowed Voldemort to peruse the shelves while he considered Voldemort's words. "Soul Magic. It's what you talked about in the British Museum, right?"

_"Yes."_

"Ah. So this vessel, is it Egyptian?"

_"It is."_

"But Snape said no one had found it yet."

_"No witch or wizard had found it until a few weeks ago."_

Harry frowned, and suddenly a few things made sense, like Voldemort's request to return to the museum a few times. "You mean, this vessel, it's -- "

_"Sekem's Vessel is on display in the British Museum, yes."_

Harry's jaw dropped. "But then how are we going to get it?"

_"Don't ask stupid questions, Harry. We're going to take it, of course."_

"We can't go stealing from the British Museum!"

_"Why ever not? Besides, I thought you wanted me out of your body. Surely that's worth a little burglary."_

"Well, yeah, but you can't just steal from a museum. They've got security and stuff."

_"We're wizards, Harry. Their security doesn't mean much when we can apparate inside."_

Harry sighed. He couldn't think of anything to say to that. It was going to be one more thing to add to his private resume. Harry Potter, savior who got awarded a big honking medal, murderer, successful caster of the two of the Unforgivables, possibly queer, wank-buddies with Lord Voldemort, and coming soon, burglar!

Snickering at himself, Harry focused on what Voldemort was doing once again. 

_"Absolutely nothing."_ Voldemort shoved another dusty book back on the shelve. _"Not one proper book on Soul Magic. Not even a proper book on early magical history."_

"Why is that?" Harry asked. "All we ever learned in History of Magic was about stupid Goblin wars."

_"Those Goblin wars influenced how the wizarding world is being governed today."_

"But a lot of magic must have come from before those wars. Like ancient Egypt, as you told me."

_"It does. However, it isn't of interest to our community in general. They have magic. They hardly care where it came from or how it was developed."_

Harry sat down at one of the tables. "Like with dinosaurs? Wizards just aren't interested in that kind of history?"

_"Tell me, Harry, how many magical museums have you seen?"_

"Er...none?"

_"The only museum of magical history in Europe is located in Paris. We don't even have one in Britain."_

"But you're interested in it, right? You like ancient Egypt."

_"Yes, my heritage stimulated me to learn more about the real history of magic."_

"Ah." Harry nodded. "Being the heir of Slytherin and all."

_"Yes. Early magic was developed in societies that didn't have many restrictions yet. That is why so much of it is considered Dark Arts today."_

"So people would rather forget about it than study it."

_"Exactly. It is a waste. People prefer to hold on to what little magic they know today so they can feel safe, instead of trying to understand the nature and possibilities of magic."_

"Yeah, that seems rather strange," Harry said. He'd certainly enjoyed everything Voldemort had told him about magic in ancient Egypt. It really seemed odd no one was interested in it. 

_"Well, we won't find anything useful here. We must wait for Severus to finish his research."_

"And what if he doesn't find anything, either?" Harry got up from the table and wrapped his cloak around him. 

_"I'm sure he'll find something. But if he doesn't, we'll go to Egypt ourselves if we have to."_

Harry grinned. "You want to go on another holiday with me? Careful, or people might think you actually like me."

_"I'll show you how much I like you when we get to bed, my little Horcurx."_

Harry tripped over the hem of his cloak, and grabbed a bookcase to keep his balance. He ignored Voldemort's laughter as he fled the library.

*--*--*

The next evening, Harry made his way down to the dungeons for another few hours of remedial Potions with Snape. Classes had gone well that day. Both Hestia Jones and Fleur Delacour took their new positions very seriously and proved decent teachers. Harry enjoyed both subjects, and combined with the usual commentary from Voldemort, the classes didn't seem very difficult.

His confrontation with Nott still fresh in his memory, Harry kept a close eye on his surroundings as he navigated the narrow corridors, but he met no resistance besides his own hesitation. Was Snape going to suck his cock again? And why didn't Harry find that thought just a little bit more repulsive instead of vaguely arousing?

_"We're going to see Severus for research, Harry. If he is willing to be of additional service, I don't see why we should object."_

Harry could think of a few reasons why he should object, but he didn't feel like another discussion about such an embarrassing subject. He knocked on Snape's office door, and it opened a few seconds later. Snape waved him into his private rooms and Harry obediently shuffled ahead. 

Snape's sitting room was packed with boxes and books and files. They were everywhere; every surface was covered, including most of the floor. Only the two chairs in front of the fireplace were left empty. 

"I see you've been busy, Severus," Voldemort said, as Harry gaped at the mountains of paper. 

"Indeed." Snape glanced around the room as though he couldn't quite believe it was all there. "I have borrowed this from Oxford's archeology department. It didn't even make a dent in their archive."

"You mean, we have to read all this?" Harry asked, imagining having to spend hours and hours with Snape. He did not look forward to that. 

"Yes, Potter," Snape snarled. "This, and much, much more if we do not find what we are looking for on our first try. There are many more universities and museums in Britain I can visit."

Harry swallowed. "We're looking for information on Sekem's Vessel, right?" 

Snape rolled his eyes and turned his back to Harry. 

"We are," Voldemort said. "The problem is, however, that Muggles have no idea what Sekem's Vessel is, and thus we will not find any outright references to it. Instead we'll have to look for any information that could pertain to Sekem's Vessel."

"Then what do Muggles call it?" Harry asked. 

"A food bowl from the fourth dynasty, according to the sign." Voldemort sat Harry down in one of the chairs. It was the same chair where Snape had – Harry shifted and cleared his throat. 

Snape offered him a vial. "This might help with your reluctance, Potter."

"My Memory Potion?" Harry accepted it with a frown. 

"No, it's an intricate poison I'm quite sure the Dark Lord will let you drink to put you out of your misery." Snape whipped around and sat down in the other chair. He downed a similar vial and picked up a nearby book. 

"Drink it, Harry. It will help with research." Voldemort gave Harry's arm a little nudge, and Harry popped the cork and drank the potion. It tasted vaguely of spinach. Harry blinked a few times against the slight itch behind his eyes, and picked up a book nearest to his arm. He opened it in his lap and sat back. He stared at the text and figured Voldemort would do the actual reading, since Harry really did not know what to look for. 

And sure enough, after a few minutes, Voldemort turned the page, and Harry allowed his mind to wander to other things. Now his lips itched, and he rubbed at them irritably. From the corner of his eyes he saw Snape reading. There were a few creases between his eyebrows, which were very black, as though they didn't belong to the rest of him with all his pale skin. Snape's lips were pursed, and those were the lips which had been wrapped around his cock only two nights ago. 

_"Harry, stop distracting me. Try to concentrate on the book instead of on Severus."_

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. He stared at the text, but it all made little sense. There were a lot of names he didn't recognize. Snape turned a page, and Harry's focus shifted again. Snape had very long fingers, and the tips weren't as stained as they'd once been. Those fingers had touched his cock, those very fingers that belonged to Snape. 

Snape had swallowed his semen, Harry remembered. He'd seen Snape's throat work and he'd felt Snape's tongue suck. Snape darted the tip of his tongue out, licked his index finger, and turned another page. Harry knew what that tongue felt like when it licked the head of his cock. Teased his slit. Lapped up little drops of pre-come. Harry remembered exactly what Snape looked like with his mouth full of Harry's cock, how his cheeks hollowed and his thin lips glistened and his black eyes burned with desire. 

_"Harry -- "_ Voldemort gave a restrained gasp, and suddenly Harry remembered what it was like to thrust his cock inside Snape's arse, how Snape's hips felt beneath his grasping fingers, how Snape clenched around him, how Snape sounded when he pounded inside, how Snape smelled covered in sweat and semen. 

Harry was on his feet and he didn't recall getting up. He remembered how much Snape enjoyed being fucked. He stood in front of Snape, but Snape still stared down at his book. Harry put his hand on Snape's shoulder and pushed it. 

Black eyes looked up, and Harry remembered what those eyes looked like when Snape begged for release. 

"Potter?"

"Severus," Harry said, and leaned down to press his lips to Snape's. 

"My Lord?" Snape asked, pulling away from Harry. 

"No. Yes." Harry shook his head. "I feel strange."

Snape stood, and stared down at Harry with a frown. "How exactly do you feel?"

"Like this," Harry said and leaned against Snape, pressing his hard cock against Snape's hip. "I feel like fucking you. I remember fucking you."

Snape's eyebrows shot up. "My Lord?"

"No, it's me. I didn't fuck you, did I?" Harry rested his chin against Snape's chest. 

"What were you concentrating on after you took the potion, Potter?"

Harry's cheeks flushed. "You. Your lips, and your tongue, and your hands, and -- "

"That's enough." Snape pushed Harry a small distance away. "My Lord, can you hear me?"

_"I'm having the boy's memories."_

"He's having the boy's memories," Harry repeated dutifully, and let himself slump against Snape again. "You like it when I fuck you hard, don't you?"

"Of course," Snape said, and then stared at Harry with wide eyes. "No – I meant, of course he's having your memories. And you are having his. You both are reacting to the potion, but since you are sharing one mind, something went wrong. Just sit down, Potter."

"No," Harry said, and grabbed Snape's crotch. Snape was half-hard. "I want to hear you scream."

"Potter, I have no intention of -- "

Harry grasped the sides of Snape's face and crushed his lips to Snape's. He remembered kissing Snape. He must have kissed him a hundred, no, a thousand times. He liked it. Snape didn't respond and kept his lips pursed, until Harry dragged his tongue across them. Snape seemed to come alive, all lips and tongue, and hands gripping around Harry's shoulders and down his back. 

"You are going to regret this in the morning, Potter," Snape said after he drew back. He sounded particularly pleased about that. 

"I don't care." Harry gave Snape a shove in the direction of his bedroom. "As long as I get to fuck you now."

Harry remembered fucking Snape the night Snape had killed Dumbledore. He'd felt so exhilarated and jubilant, he'd fucked Snape three times in a row. First against the wall with their clothes still on, then on the floor of his bedroom where he took Snape from behind, and finally in his bed where he lay atop Snape and Snape wrapped his arms and legs around him. 

"Potter?" Snape had already taken off his robes and was unbuttoning his shirt. They were in his bedroom; it was just as unremarkable as the rest of Snape's rooms. 

"Yeah," Harry said, and started on his own clothes. He didn't feel nervous – how could he? He'd fucked Snape often enough – though he thought perhaps he should. 

Harry remembered fucking Snape for the first time, only a few weeks after Snape had come to him and he'd given Snape his mark. Snape had been a nervous, skittish boy, barely a man, and so eager to please but with no experience to aid him. All innocence in some ways, and all darkness and horror in others. He'd taken his time with Snape then. He'd gone slow and made sure Snape enjoyed it, and he'd groomed Snape to serve him privately ever since. 

They were naked now, and Snape pulled him onto the bed. Snape was pale all over, with wiry limbs and sharp bones. Harry crawled on top of him as Snape spread his legs. Snape's cock was hard and flushed, and Harry wrapped his fingers around it as he'd done so many times before. Snape stared up at him, black eyes narrowed and lips parted. The corner of his mouth twitched. Harry frowned and scooted closer, the head of his cock brushing across Snape's entrance. 

"What are you thinking, Potter?" Snape reached for his wand and cast a quick spell. Suddenly Harry's cock was slick and pressed inside Snape just an inch. 

"How I fucked you the night I returned," Harry said, and gave a gasp when his cock slipped inside all the way. 

Harry remembered fucking Snape in this new, unfamiliar body. Snape had tasted of fear and he'd begged forgiveness, but Harry hadn't given it. He'd just taken from Snape that night, fucking him and using him, and Snape had begged him for more. 

"Traitor," Harry whispered, and leaned over Snape, hooking his arms around the back of Snape's knees, drawing him open. He thrust his hips, cock buried in slick heat. He lowered his head and pressed his mouth against Snape's throat. It was moist with sweat and desire. "This is our little game, isn't it, Severus? You betray me time and again, and yet you cannot resist me. You cannot refuse my cock. You cannot deny my power."

Snape raked his fingers down Harry's back. It drew a sharp hiss from Harry, and he pumped his hips harder and faster. He wanted to punish Snape, he wanted Snape to know who was his real master, who'd always be his real master, not because he was stronger or more powerful than Snape, but because no matter how many times Snape betrayed him, Snape always wanted more of him. 

"My little deserter. You'll never be free of me. I'll always be inside you, no matter the times you stab me in the back." Harry raked his teeth across the soft skin of Snape's throat, and thrust his cock inside as deep as he could. 

And Snape met every thrust, curving his back and pushing his hips up, his cock trapped between them. Harry could hear Snape grit his teeth and he felt Snape's jaws clench, and yet Snape pulled him closer and bucked up harder, and Harry knew Snape had missed it – him – when he'd thought him dead. 

"You were lost without a master, weren't you, Severus?" Harry drew his head back so he could stare down at Snape. He slowed his thrusts to long, deep motions, and reached for Snape's cock. "You need me," Harry whispered against Snape's lips. "But that is not what eats at you, what haunts you at night. No, it's the fact that you want me that blackens your soul."

Snape squeezed his eyes shut and released a strangled groan. His cock twitched and spilled in Harry's hand. Harry stroked it a few times more, and started thrusting harder and sharper, and with the knowledge that Snape was his, would always be his no matter what he tried to do, he found his release and came deep inside Snape, marking him all over again. 

Harry collapsed on top of Snape, sticky and sweaty and exhausted. 

"Potter?" Snape sounded hoarse. 

Blinking against flickers of light and shadow, Harry tried to lift his head, but he couldn't move. He tried to talk, but there were so many voices inside his head that deafened him. 

Little Amy Benson cried for him to stop, and Mrs Cole threatened him with the asylum, and Father Hughes warned him he'd go to hell if he refused to go to confession, and the Sorting Hat told him he was a true Slytherin, and Morfin called him a Muggle, and his filthy father begged for mercy, and Slughorn explained about Horcruxes, and...

There were a thousand voices in Harry's head, accompanied by a thousand images and feelings that weren't his. There was so much hate and fear it chilled him to the bone, and so much longing and craving it melted his insides, and so much triumph it burned him up. 

"Potter? Can you hear me?" Snape sounded distant, as if he was speaking from five miles away.

Something cold and wet touched Harry's forehead, small drops sliding down his temples. Harry still couldn't move, couldn't even open his eyes. They were glued shut with images of Hogwarts and the basilisk and Borgin and Burkes and places he didn't recognize. 

"Even if I had an antidote, I couldn't give it to you, Potter. There is no predicting how you or the Dark Lord would react to it in this state. A Memory Potion usually lasts for two to three hours. You'll just have to ride it out."

Those words didn't make much sense when they were combined with memories of killing and torturing and rage and contempt. The only thing Harry knew for sure was that his head was going to explode, because there was no way it could hold so many different memories of places and people and curses and feelings and smells. 

At last he recognized a face. It was his father, right before Harry killed him in the hallway of their house in Godric's Hollow. His mother was next, and she refused to step aside, so Harry killed her as well, and it made him feel so warm and content. 

And when that sank in, Harry finally found his voice again. He screamed.

*--*--*

Harry woke up to the dim light of a single candle burning on a nightstand. Beside him lay a sleeping figure, and it took Harry a moment to realize it was Snape lying on top of the covers of his bed while Harry was buried beneath a heavy blanket.

Yeah, it would be really weird for Snape to crawl under the covers with him after Harry had fucked him --

Things came back in a dizzying rush, and Harry remembered everything. Everything he'd recalled or relived or experienced.

"Tom?" he whispered, unsure what had become of Voldemort. He got no reply, and that was both relieving and disturbing. "Tom? Talk to me."

_"Not now, Harry."_

Harry released a small sigh. Voldemort was still there, safely in his mind. "What happened? I saw – I was – I was you, Tom."

_"And I was you!"_ Voldemort sounded positively enraged. _"Every single one of your memories you forced upon me."_

"I didn't do – but you already saw all of my memories. Why is that so bad?"

_"Because before they were just memories. Now I – now they were real."_

"Oh God." Harry remembered killing his parents. He drew the blanket up higher. "I was you. I felt everything about you. Did you -- "

_"I'm not discussing this now!"_

"You did, didn't you," Harry whispered. "You were me."

There was no reply, and it made Harry restless. Voldemort couldn't just ignore him like that, not after what had happened. He had questions that needed answering. 

"Tom?" Harry reached out a hand, but Voldemort wasn't there. He only found a bony shoulder in a worn nightshirt. "Tom! Talk to me, dammit!"

"Potter, stop this ruckus." Snape sat up and glared at Harry.

"Er..." Harry had absolutely no idea what to say to Snape now that he'd had his penis buried in Snape's bum. 

Snape sighed. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Dizzy. Tom's not talking to me. He's angry, I think."

"Oh, it's Tom now, is it?" Snape sat up a little higher and crossed his arms. 

"That's what I call him. He hates it." Harry looked up at Snape with wide eyes. "What happened, Professor?"

"You dragged me to my bed and fucked me." Snape sneered. "Despite my warning you'd regret it, I might add."

"That's not what I meant." Harry knew he'd fucked Snape. And he didn't regret it. Not really, since it had felt so natural and familiar at the time. Of course, he wasn't going to tell Snape that. 

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked tired, and Harry wondered if he'd kept Snape up all night. He had no idea what time it was. 

"The Memory Potion is designed to improve one's memory and concentration for a short period of time, usually no more than three hours. In your case, however, the potion met not one set of memories, but two. It improved your access to one set of memories. They just weren't your own. The potion merely did its work."

"I remembered everything from his life," Harry said. He felt a bit queasy. "I remembered fucking you, killing my parents, trying to kill myself. And I liked it." His stomach roiled, and Harry leaned over the side of the bed and threw up. 

"Yes, that is exactly what was missing from my already delightful night. Harry Potter puking on my floor." The mattress dipped as Snape got up. 

Harry groaned; the back of his throat felt as if he'd swallowed acid. The mess beneath his face vanished, and a glass of water appeared in his line of sight. 

"Drink. And then get out." Snape swept back to the other side of the bed, but his gray nightshirt just didn't have the flair his robes usually had. All it did was flutter around his skinny legs. 

"What time is it?" Harry took a careful sip of water, and tried to sit up. 

"Six."

"Six in the morning?" Harry jerked upright, spilling half his glass on the sheets. 

"No, it is six in the evening exactly one year since you had your little Memory Potions episode, and I just left you in my bed to rot all that time." Snape swished his wand and magic breezed against Harry, drying the wet sheets. "Have you no control over yourself at all, Potter?"

"I don't feel very good." Harry sat the glass down on the nightstand, and was surprised to find his glasses there. He slid them on and started getting up out of bed with slow calculated movements. Everything hurt. Every last muscle he used ached. 

"You experienced some sort of seizures," Snape said. He'd crossed his arms, but not even that made him look like the old Snape Harry had known for seven years. Harry feared nothing would ever make Snape look like his old self again now that Harry had fucked him. 

"It hurts. Everything hurts," Harry whispered. He clutched at one of the bedposts as he planted his feet on the cold floor. 

"I can't give you any potion for the pain. It is a risk not worth taking again. Merlin knows what it could end up doing to you both."

"I'd think you'd be eager to make me feel miserable."

"In case you forgot, Potter, I took a vow not to hurt you. Now that I know certain potions have a peculiar effect on you in your current condition, I am not taking that risk when it's my own life on the line." 

Harry snorted. "Yeah, it's always about your own life, isn't it? You were bloody eager to accept that vow."

Snape looked livid. "You have been living with the Dark Lord inside your mind for weeks now, and last night you sounded exactly like him when you fucked me, Potter, and you dare question my motives in this? I don't see you doing all you can to get rid of him once and for all!"

"I can't do anything! He's there all the fucking time! He'll kill my friends if I try something, if I even think about doing something, don't you understand that?" For some reason it was very important Snape understood that, because Snape was the only person who knew what Harry was going through. 

"I understand that better than you think, Potter, which is why I thank you not to question my motives. Now get out!" Snape stalked into the living room.

Harry located his clothes on a chair near the door. He wobbled towards it, and had to grab at the wall to keep his balance. He managed to get dressed, though it took him at least ten minutes. He didn't even bother trying to lace up his shoes, and instead just tucked in the laces. His fingers were too stiff. 

The trip through the sitting room took him another minute, and Snape waited for him at the door impatiently. 

Harry stepped inside Snape's office and turned to look at Snape. "I don't regret it," he said, carefully taking in Snape's expression. It stayed blank. "I don't regret fucking you. It was... all right."

Snape slammed the door shut in Harry's face.

*--*--*

The trek back to Gryffindor was long and painful, and when Harry stumbled into his dormitory at last, his roommates were already up and about.

"Harry!" Neville was by his side at once. "Are you all right? You look awful."

"I'm a bit sick," Harry said. He had trouble breathing, and even though he'd never admit it, he was secretly glad Neville caught his arm and helped him to his bed. 

Ron stared at him from the doorway to their bathroom, still dressed in his pajamas. He clearly looked torn between continuing his silent treatment and concern about his best friend's health. 

"Did Snape poison you?" Ron asked. He sounded hesitant, as if he was trying to make a joke but had forgotten the punchline. 

Harry shook his head as he toed off his shoes. Even that hurt. "No. It's just the flu."

"Maybe you should go to the infirmary," Ron tried, taking a few steps closer to Harry's bed. 

"Been there already," Harry said. It seemed like a good lie, since he didn't feel like explaining why and how he'd spent the night in Snape's quarters. "Pomfrey said I needed some bed rest."

"All right." Ron turned towards his own bed and reached for his robes. "Do you want me to bring you some breakfast?"

"No, thanks. I just want some sleep." Harry didn't bother undressing any further, and crawled under the covers. "I'm really tired."

"We'll check up on you later," Neville said. 

Harry didn't reply. He closed his eyes and was asleep in seconds.

*--*--*

It was midday when Harry woke up. Most of the pain was gone from his body, but his mind felt heavy and sluggish. He found a bowl of soup and a glass of pumpkin juice on his nightstand, probably left there by Ron or Neville after lunch. He ignored the soup, but downed the juice.

He lay back against his pillow and stared up at the canopy. He didn't feel like getting up. He didn't feel like doing much of anything. Perhaps sleep a little more. Sleep sounded really nice. The dormitory was quiet and deserted. As was his mind. 

"Tom?"

No reply. What was that fucking bastard up to?

"You can't just ignore me like that," Harry said, though he knew very well there was little he could do to force Voldemort to talk to him. "I'm not feeling happy about this either, you know. It wasn't exactly pleasant being you for a night."

_"Funny. I was about to say the exact same thing."_

Harry smiled, despite the flashes of memories that chilled him to the bone. "Now you're being melodramatic. What's so horrible about being me?"

_"For one thing, I'd like to know why your Muggle relatives are still walking around after the way they treated you. How can you live with the knowledge you never so much as gave them a slap on their wrists for what they've done?"_

Harry blinked. He'd never considered that before. "Honestly? I don't care about my relatives either way. Yeah, they were a bunch of bastards, but -- "

_"They locked you up in a cupboard for most of your childhood! They starved you! Have you any idea what that felt -- "_ Voldemort fell silent, and Harry got a flash of pain from his scar instead. 

"Is that what this is all about?" Harry asked. He was too surprised to be annoyed. "You knew what had happened to me before, but you never knew what it felt like, and now you -- "

_"Don't be ridiculous. As if I would allow myself to be overpowered by something as common and trivial as emotions!"_

"Oh no, don't go backing up now." Harry sat up in his bed, feeling as if he was _this_ close to catching the Snitch. "You were me, and you felt things you've probably never felt before, am I right?"

_"You are delusional, boy."_

"No, I'm not. So how did you enjoy losing your godfather? Grief's a bitch, isn't it? Or how about being tied down to a gravestone while your worst enemy comes back to life in front of your eyes. I bet you enjoyed mortal fear. Or how about seeing the girl you love snogging another boy. I hope that broken heart is working for you."

Sharp pain exploded from his scar and surged through his mind, and Harry was forced back, his eyes squeezed shut. But he knew he was right. 

He laughed through the pain, and finally caught his breath enough to say, "Welcome to the human race, Tom."

Another flash of pain was the only response he got, but Harry couldn't care less. He laughed and laughed until he exhausted himself and sleep caught up with him.

*--*--*

It was very strange to have memories that weren't his own, Harry decided. It wasn't as if those new memories haunted him every waking minute; they were buried somewhere in his subconscious, like his own memories were. But whenever he tried to recall certain memories now, they were tainted.

He thought about the night his parents died, the memories that had surfaced every time he'd been confronted by a Dementor, and besides hearing his mother scream and beg for their lives, he felt Voldemort's victory and superiority. These new feelings and images were slick and painful, like boiling oil being poured over the memories he cherished the most. 

It was evening now, and Harry still didn't want to get up. The idea of going out there, where everything could trigger a recollection that wasn't his own, was terrifying. 

He was afraid of what he might feel once he saw his friends again. What if he looked at Ginny and felt nothing but contempt? 

_"We had an agreement, Harry. I expect you to keep it."_

"Huh?"

_"You're to stop whining about that girl, remember?"_

Harry dropped his face in his hands. "I wasn't – it's all because of your bloody memories. I'm not exactly thrilled to know what it's like to be you."

_"That feeling is mutual."_

"Can't we reverse this? There must be something we can do."

_"And risk Merlin knows what? There is no telling how we'd respond to potions or spells."_

Voldemort had a point, but that didn't mean Harry had to like it. He dropped back onto his bed and stared up. "I've been you before, did you know that?"

_"Do tell."_

"Yeah, when you were in that snake that attacked Mr Weasley, and one time when you were talking to Rookwood right before you punished Avery. But I was dreaming at the time, sort of, and it was more like being inside a Pensieve. I didn't feel anything."

_"That is what possession is like, Harry. You are not supposed to feel anything, otherwise you'd go mad."_

Harry smiled at that. "So we're going mad now?" 

_"Seeing that you've been lying in bed in your clothes all day, I'd say you are well on your way, yes."_

"Yeah," Harry agreed quite happily. If they were talking about weird stuff like this, he didn't have to think about all the things that were lurking inside him. "And you were insane to begin with. You can't get much madder than that."

_"Watch your tongue."_

"Right." He needed to distract himself. He needed to do things that wouldn't bring up any of the gruesome images and feelings. "Fancy a wank?"

_"Not right now."_

Harry sighed. Perhaps he should have a wank by himself. If he wanked, he wouldn't be thinking about his parents' death. The worst thing that could happen was that he thought about Snape, but that wasn't the end of the world.

_"Ah, yes, my little Horcrux is a virgin no more."_

"I can't believe I lost my virginity to Snape," Harry muttered. That was a bit of an uncomfortable thought. 

_"You were enjoying yourself. There is no point in denying it."_

"It wasn't bad," Harry said. He ruffled his hair and bit his lip. "It was just strange because it was Snape. Before you decided to move into my head, I'd never even considered blokes before, let alone that greasy bastard."

_"You could have done far worse than Severus."_

Harry shrugged. Seeing that he regularly let Voldemort jerk him off, he really didn't know what constituted 'worse' anymore. "I can't believe Snape let me, though. He hates me."

_"Severus likes to be fucked, and you're a desirable young man. Whether he hates you or not is really of no importance. You're too hung up on emotions. It was just sex."_

"If you say so." Harry chuckled. "And I still can't believe you giving me advice on my sex-life. I don't think Dark Lords are supposed to do that."

_"Dark Lords aren't supposed to watch Muggle movies with their enemies either, but there you go."_

Harry laughed, and in between his guffaws he realized Voldemort probably needed distraction as much as he did. Fooling around was good. Laughing at lame jokes was even better. 

"Yeah, or eat at McDonalds." Harry laughed even harder, and Voldemort chuckled. It warmed Harry's insides, as if he was suddenly lying close to a fire. "Why does that feel so good? You laughing, I mean."

_"I do not laugh."_

Harry rolled his eyes. "All right. You chuckling."

_"I have no idea. Would you prefer a Cruciatus instead?"_

"No." Harry snickered. "Hey, do you ever giggle?"

_"I can't say I've ever attempted it, no."_

"You should. I bet you sound really funny when you giggle."

_"And you were wondering if you were going mad? I think you already are."_

"Well," Harry said with a smile. "If this is madness, it's not so bad."

The door opened, and Ron and Neville entered. Harry inhaled a deep breath to compose himself.

"I brought you some treacle tart from dinner." Ron placed it on Harry's nightstand beside the untouched bowl of soup. 

"Yeah, you should try to eat something, Harry," Neville said. 

"Thanks, but I'm not really hungry right now. I think I'll try to sleep some more."

Neville cast Ron a worried glance, but Harry ignored them and turned on his side, his back to his friends.

*--*--*

Harry remained in bed the next day. He still hadn't changed his clothes, and he only got up to use the loo, and only because Voldemort made him. Harry was all for peeing in an empty glass, but Voldemort called it barbaric and more or less kicked him out of bed.

Ron brought him tea and toast after breakfast, and a couple of scones after lunch, but Harry had no appetite to speak of and ignored Ron's offerings. 

Around dinnertime the door suddenly banged open and in barged Snape. Harry, who'd been dozing, sat upright at once and gaped at him. 

"Potter, slacking the day away?"

"Harry," Ron panted, as he came up behind Snape. "We're so sorry. He overheard us in the Great Hall and marched right up to Gryffindor Tower."

"We couldn't stop him," Neville said from safely behind Ron's back. 

Snape turned and glared at them. "Out."

Spluttering, Ron squared his shoulders. "You can't kick us out of our own dormitory!"

"No?" Snape whipped out his wand, and a second later something pushed Ron and Neville back into the corridor and the door fell shut with a forbidding _clunk_.

"Now, Potter," Snape said, turning back to Harry, wand still in his hand. "You have missed two days of classes. Care to explain?"

"Flu," Harry mumbled. 

"You do not have the flu, Potter. Perhaps you'd like to try again?" Snape took a few steps closer to Harry's bed. And even though Harry had seen Snape naked and covered in semen, he still looked damned intimidating when he glared at Harry. 

Harry shrugged. "I wasn't feeling well."

"You weren't feeling well yesterday, which is why I allowed you some rest and didn't report your absence to the Headmistress. However, you look fine this evening."

Where was Voldemort when Harry needed him? "Say something."

"My little Horcrux is depressed, Severus," Voldemort said. 

Harry groaned. "I'm not depressed. I'm just...tired."

"Ah." Snape sneered. "Are you unable to cope with a few of the Dark Lord's memories? Are you too frail to suck it up and carry on?"

"I saw myself killing my parents, and I liked it!" Harry yelled, crawling to his knees. "And you expect me to just get over it?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I expect you to do, Potter." Snape grabbed the scruff of Harry's robes and pulled him out of bed. Harry hit the floor arse first and yelped. "Perhaps you still expect special treatment, hero that you are, but I will not allow you to spend the days wallowing in self-pity in your own filth."

Snape dragged Harry across the dormitory towards the bathroom.

"You can't do this." Harry tried getting to his feet, but Snape was faster and stronger. "I have – I am the Dark Lord!"

"If the Dark Lord has a problem with my conduct, I'm quite sure he'll let me know, Potter." Snape threw Harry into the bathroom, and Harry skidded to a halt in one of the shower stalls.

Harry grabbed the wall for balance. "This is none of your business, Snape!"

"I'm making it my business." Snape flicked his wand, and Harry's clothes disappeared. Another flick, and ice-cold water poured down on him. "Now wash yourself. You reek."

Teeth clattering, Harry opened the hot tap and reached for the shampoo. "It's all your fault," he said, lathering his hair. "You could have stopped him. You're his...I don't know...master or something."

_"I do believe Severus had a good point. You were starting to reek."_

Glaring at Snape, Harry rinsed his hair, and ran a bar of soap across his chest and groin. "Enjoying the view?"

"Quite." Snape leaned against the door post, obviously making himself more comfortable. 

"I fucked you," Harry said. He ran a soapy hand up and down his cock. "That was me. Not Voldemort."

"And?" Snape curved one eyebrow. 

"You liked it."

Snape gave a careless shrug. "As did you. You are of age, Potter. There are no rules against such behavior between a professor and a student who is of age, if that is your concern."

"It isn't." Harry reached around the shower stall and plucked his toothbrush and toothpaste from the sink. "But you hate me," he said, and brushed his teeth. 

"Indeed." Snape smirked. 

_"Harry, I told you those feelings are of no matter to Severus. Forget about it, for pity's sake."_

Harry raised his head towards the spray and rinsed his mouth. It just seemed strange that fucking Snape hadn't been all that strange. Fucking Snape had been distracting, though, and Harry still needed a good distraction. He shut off the taps and padded towards Snape, aware he was naked and dripping wet. 

"I was just wondering if you cared to do it again," Harry said, looking up at Snape. He licked his lips. Snape stared down at him with narrowed black eyes, and that stirred something inside Harry and made his cock twitch. 

"Here, Mr Potter?"

"Sure." Harry pressed himself closer until he felt Snape's robes brush his naked skin.

_"Harry, kiss him already."_

That wasn't bad advice, Harry reasoned, and he did just that. Snape responded at once, parting his lips and meeting Harry's tongue with his own. It was a little odd to kiss Snape now that he wasn't influenced directly by Voldemort's memories, but Snape wasn't a bad kisser at all. He was rough and firm and Harry sagged against him as he deepened their kiss even further. 

Snape slid an arm around Harry and pulled him along into the dormitory. Harry moaned as Snape's thigh pressed against his naked cock. He felt Snape's lips curve up at that, and he folded his arms around Snape and grasped Snape's arse with both hands. That arse. He'd fucked that arse, and he was going to do it again. 

They reached Harry's bed, and Harry drew back to gasp for breath. "The door?"

"Locked," Snape said, and brushed his lips down Harry's throat. "I doubt any of those Gryffindors can break it, save for perhaps -- "

The door banged open and in stormed Ron and Hermione, followed by Neville and Dean and Seamus. 

"-- Miss Granger," Snape sighed.

"Get your hands off him, you pervert!" Ron cried, pointing his wand at Snape, who took a step back from Harry. "Don't worry, Harry. We won't let him hurt you. We'll tell McGonagall and Snape will end up in Azkaban where he belongs!"

"Ron," Hermione said, lowering her wand. "I don't think Snape was assaulting him." 

Harry wanted to die. He really, truly wanted his life to end right there and then. 

_"Now, now, that seems a bit rash."_

Ron's jaw dropped, and beside him Neville turned beet-red. And Harry glanced down his body, his very naked body, and noticed his hard cock. He stared up at Snape, who in turn was glaring at his friends. It seemed Ron had mobilized half their House, since more and more people filed in behind them. 

"But..." Ron looked at Harry desperately. 

"Er..." said Harry. "I'd rather do this without an audience, if you don't mind."

Snape snorted, and Voldemort laughed so loud it made Harry dizzy. 

"Get dressed, Potter. We're going to see the Headmistress and inform her of our...intimate relationship." And with that Snape leaned over and planted a firm kiss on Harry's mouth. 

"He can't – he has to – the Imperius Curse! That bastard cursed Harry!" Ron shouted. Hermione and Neville both grabbed one of Ron's arms and dragged him through the small crowd and out the door.

*--*--*

"Enter."

Snape pushed the heavy door to McGonagall's office open and ushered Harry inside. Harry still wasn't sure what they were doing there, but when he'd voiced his confusion earlier, Snape had merely ignored him and told him to come along. 

"Severus, Harry, what can I do for you?" McGonagall asked, seated behind the desk that had once belonged to Dumbledore. 

"Headmistress." Snape inclined his head, and tugged Harry further into the room. "Potter and I have an announcement to make."

"Yes?" McGonagall tilted her head. "Has this to do with the extra classes you're giving Harry?"

"Not quite. We thought it best if you heard it from us, instead of hearing from it through the rumor mill." Snape kept his hand on Harry's arm, and pulled him so close Harry was standing against his side. 

"Well, get on with it."

Snape inclined his head again. "Potter and I are in a relationship."

McGonagall blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"A romantic relationship," Snape said. He sounded perfectly composed. Harry stared at the floor and felt his cheeks burn. 

"Have you gone completely mad?" McGonagall rose from her chair, leaning both hands on her desk. 

"Certainly not," Snape said. "You know there aren't any rules that forbid a relationship between a professor and a student who's of age."

"I am aware of the school rules, Severus. But you two can't be serious." McGonagall gestured helplessly at them. "You can't stand each other."

"We overcame our differences and learned we have quite a lot in common," Snape said smoothly. 

"What can you two possibly have in common?" McGonagall's voice got higher and higher. 

"Voldemort," Harry said, looking up at McGonagall for the first time. McGonagall's eyes widened. 

_"Harry! Watch your tongue!"_

"We talked about Voldemort. I mean, he ruined both our lives, didn't he? We have that in common." Harry glanced up at Snape and wondered if that was enough to convince McGonagall. He wasn't sure. "Oh," he added. "And the sex is great."

McGonagall sat down at once. "That's quite enough, Mr Potter!"

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, though he wasn't really. Voldemort's chuckles echoed his own amusement at seeing McGonagall so flustered. 

"Well." McGonagall folded her hands. "I know I cannot forbid this relationship, but I do want to urge you to reconsider it. Have you any idea how students might react to this? Or the staff? Or the Ministry, for that matter?"

"There is nothing the Ministry can do," Snape said. "We are two adult wizards who have willingly entered into this relationship. Unless they're suddenly planning to outlaw homosexuality, it is none of their business."

"But what am I to tell my staff, Severus? How am I to explain to the students one of their professors is...having relations with a boy half his age?"

"If you want me to resign, I will," Snape said. Harry didn't like that idea. Snape was the only one at Hogwarts who knew about him. 

"Of course not! I had enough problems finding a Potions master in the first place." McGonagall sighed. "I am not pleased with this, but I am well aware it is not my decision. However, I ask you to keep all displays of affection confined to your private quarters, Severus."

"Certainly, Headmistress."

"And Potter, if your marks suffer from this, I will step in and find a way to terminate this – this display of insanity."

"They won't, Professor," Harry said. "I promise."

"You are dismissed!"

Snape pulled Harry along towards the door. They passed Dumbledore's portrait, and he gave them both a knowing wink. Harry quickly looked down and let Snape lead him out of the office. 

"Now what?" Harry asked, once they stood in the deserted corridor. "I mean, are you my boyfriend now or something?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter," Snape said. He released Harry and smoothed down his robes. "Now no one will question the amount of time you spend alone with me. It is the perfect cover."

_"I agree. Let the world believe you and Severus are committed to each other, and no one will bother us."_

"He agrees," Harry said, and Snape nodded his understanding. "So...er...what do we do now?"

"Now you go back to your House and explain what is going on before I am faced with class after class of Gryffindors all convinced I have you under the Imperius Curse." Snape's lips curled up in a smirk. "Though I won't mind taking appropriate points for any false accusations made against me, of course."

Harry snorted. "Fine."

"Come to my office after breakfast tomorrow. We will resume our interrupted activities then." Snape brushed past Harry, his hand pressing against Harry's groin for a second. It made Harry shudder with both annoyance and arousal. 

_"He can be such a delightful little tease, our Severus."_

"Yeah, when he's not being such a bastard," Harry muttered, and started on his walk back to Gryffindor Tower.

*--*--*

Harry was convinced something had gone terribly wrong in his life somewhere as he entered the common room. It was packed, and he was immediately assaulted with questions. Really, he felt like someone had plucked him from his own life and had dumped him into this twisted world where everything he did ended in a complete and utter disaster.

"So it's true, then," Dean asked. He was standing near the front of the crowd, which was why Harry could understand him. Everyone else's voices blurred together, sounding like a swarm of bees. 

Harry nodded. "Yep, it's true."

"You're shagging Snape?" That was Seamus, and he sounded both horrified and fascinated. 

"Yeah," Harry said. God, he really did not want to be there. He felt like a traitor and a pervert, having to confess his affair with Snape in front of his House. 

_"It could have been far worse, Harry. Image what your friends would say if they discovered you are playing host for Lord Voldemort."_

_Stop talking about yourself in the third person,_ Harry thought. _It sounds ridiculous._

"This is a joke, right?" Ron had managed to step forward through the crowd, and he looked at Harry with pleading eyes. "You're queer now and you thought it would be fun to play a prank on us. You're shagging Snape. Very funny."

"I don't think Harry would snog Snape while he was naked just to play a prank on us," Neville said. Hermione nodded at that. 

"It's not a joke. Sorry." Harry sighed. Wasn't it over yet? He'd answered their questions. He just wanted to go to bed, get some sleep, and hopefully wake up back in his own life, instead of this nightmare. 

"But he's Snape!" Ron's ears were bright red, and his cheeks followed suit. "He's a greasy bastard!"

Harry shrugged. He couldn't disagree with that. 

"And he's a Slytherin!" Ron made that sound like the worst of Harry's offenses. 

"Your sister is shagging a Slytherin, in case you forgot," Voldemort said, and Harry wanted to strangle him for interfering yet again. He heard a sharp intake of breath from his right, and saw a flash of red hair as Ginny withdrew into the crowd. 

"You're shagging Zabini?" Ron called after her. He glanced at Hermione with wide eyes. "I thought they were just snogging." 

"This isn't about Ginny," Hermione said, placing a hand on Ron's arm. "This is about Harry. And Snape. Who are...together. Right?" She looked at Harry expectantly. 

"Right," Harry said. He wasn't sure what more they wanted of him. "Look, McGonagall knows about it. It's not against any rules. And I'm all right with it."

"But Snape?" Ron's voice sounded very tight. "Are you sure you're not under some curse? Or a love potion! Snape's good with potions, after all!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not under any curse. And he didn't slip me a love potion, either. I'm not in love with him or anything. I just like the sex."

Ron gasped, as did several other people. 

"You've got to understand this is a bit of a shock for us, Harry," Hermione said. She looked as if she was trying very hard not to smile. "You've never really indicated before that you were attracted to Snape. Or that you even liked him, for that matter."

"Snape's queer, too." Harry thought that explained everything. 

"He's not the only queer at school," Ron said, and gestured to his right. "Colin's a faggot. You could shag him instead!"

Colin beamed at Harry and gave a little wave. 

_"Oh, surely not."_

Harry rather agreed with Voldemort on that one. He wasn't even sure he'd have picked Colin over Snape, had someone forced him into that choice, before Voldemort had taken residence in his mind. 

"I like shagging Snape. No offense, Colin."

"It's all right," Colin said, though his smile did waver a little. 

"You've gone mad. Completely mad," Ron muttered, shaking his head. 

Harry rather agreed with that, too, if he thought about it. "Well, I'm going to bed. Good night." He felt every eye in the room on him as he marched up the stairs.

*--*--*

"So, are you going to hang out with Snape today?" Ron asked the next morning, right after Harry opened his curtains.

"Yeah," Harry said. They needed to do research, but he couldn't tell Ron that. No, Ron was probably thinking they were going to shag all day. Great. 

_"Who says we won't?"_

_That would be me, the bloke who wants you out of his body,_ Harry thought, and shuffled towards the bathroom. Sure, a little shag wouldn't hurt, but Harry was well aware if they didn't do any research, Voldemort wasn't going anywhere. 

He showered and got dressed, and ignored Ron's disappointed and accusatory glances, until he couldn't take it anymore. 

"Stop it," he said, as he fished his trainers out from under the bed. "So I won't spend a Saturday with you. Big deal. Now you can go and snog Hermione all day without worrying about me tagging along."

Ron heaved a sigh. "But that's how I always thought it would be. Me and Hermione, and you and Ginny, and we'd all hang out on the weekend."

"Well, things change," Harry snapped. "I'm not seeing Ginny, and I prefer to shag blokes now."

"I know." Ron looked positively miserable. "It's just that I'd been looking forward to it."

Harry gritted his teeth. He knew how Ron felt, because he'd been looking forward to such a normal, simple life as well. But he couldn't say a bloody thing, and that frustrated him to no end. "Do you think it's been easy for me? That I'm having a jolly good time of it?"

_"Harry! Do not force me to do something you will regret!"_

Ron stared at Harry for a few moments. "What?"

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, Harry lowered his head. "I mean, it's not easy coming out in the national press, and then realizing you're attracted to Snape of all people. It's not the kind of life I had envisioned for myself, you know," he said, and meanwhile thought desperately, _I'll fix it!_

_"See that you do, my little Horcrux."_

"Ah. Yeah. I can see that." Ron scratched at his chin in an absent manner. 

Harry wanted to get out of there, before he let something slip he couldn't fix. "Let's get some breakfast."

"Yeah." Ron followed him out the door, and they met Hermione in the common room. They walked down to the Great Hall together, and it soon became apparent the rumor mill at Hogwarts still moved faster than a Firebolt. Every student they met stared at Harry in complete disbelief. Except for a handful of Slytherins, who were singing something that started with "Harry the fairy likes shagging Snape". Harry couldn't make out the rest of it, because Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him along. 

Things weren't much better once they found a seat at Gryffindor table. Every eye in the hall was on Harry, until Snape entered and sat down at the Head Table, and then everyone looked as if they were watching a Quidditch match; they glanced from Harry to Snape and from Snape to Harry and so on and so forth, as if expecting some public display of intimacy, or worse, love. 

"Ignore them," Hermione said, and Harry realized that was the only thing he could do. Snape seemed to have adopted that strategy with success. He bit into a piece of toast while reading the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ , seemingly unaware of all the attention. 

_"Harry, you must stop worrying about the rest of the world."_

Harry snorted. Easier said than done. He spooned some eggs onto his plate. Across from him, Hermione paid an owl and accepted her copy of the _Daily Prophet_. She opened it, and her cheeks turned pink. 

"Oh God, it's in the _Prophet_ , isn't it?" Harry asked. Hermione folded the paper and gave Harry a bright smile. When Harry kept staring at her, it wavered. 

"Yes," she said with a sigh. "They're calling it the romance of the year and they're asking readers to cast their votes for when the official bonding ceremony will be."

_"At least they are not calling you mad this time."_

Harry buried his face in his hands.

*--*--*

"Did you see the _Prophet_ this morning?" Snape asked the moment his office door fell shut behind Harry.

Harry shook his head. "Hermione told me. That was enough for me."

Snape nodded, and Harry followed him to the sitting room. "I take it last night went well, seeing that Britain's finest reporters lauded our relationship as the romance of the year."

"Yeah, it went all right." Harry flopped down in one of the empty chairs and heaved a suffering sigh. 

"You must forgive my little Horcrux, Severus," Voldemort said. "He has some trouble putting his emotions to rest."

"I am well aware of that." Snape sat down in the other chair. "I did attempt to teach him Occlumency, after all. A complete waste of my time, as it turned out."

Harry glared at Snape, but the effect was ruined as Voldemort started laughing. Those vibrating sounds tickled the back of Harry's throat until he sneezed. Snape observed him with an amused little smile. It irritated Harry to no end. 

"Let's just do research. It's what we're here for," he said, and picked up the nearest book. 

Snape's smile grew wider and looked more nasty than amused. 

"What?" Harry snarled. "What the hell are you looking at?"

"I was merely observing you. I do believe I have never seen you this outmatched before." Snape leaned back in his chair and stared at Harry over his nose. "Nor have I ever seen you this defeated."

Harry looked down at the book in his lap. "It's not like I have a choice in this," he muttered. 

"Of course you have a choice, Harry," Voldemort said. "You have already made it."

"Oh yeah, either play along or watch all my friends get possessed and killed. Great choice."

"But a choice nonetheless. You were right, my little Horcrux. We have much research to do." Voldemort opened his book, and Snape followed his example. Harry retreated to the back of his mind. He was tired and angry and irritated with Snape's observations, and in no condition to focus on strange translations of ancient Egyptian writing. Let Voldemort do the work. 

Harry watched Snape from the corner of his eye. He hated the man. After what Snape had just said, he truly hated him, because Snape was right. And Harry hated to admit it. Voldemort did outmatch and outmaneuver him. With each new development, Voldemort backed Harry further and further into a corner. Harry wondered what would happen when his back hit the wall behind him. What would happen when Voldemort got his body back?

The only thing Harry knew – or at least strongly suspected – was that Voldemort wouldn't kill him. It would cost him a Horcrux if he did. But what would stop Voldemort from going after Harry's friends?

_"Stop sulking, Harry. It's depressing."_

"I'll bloody well sulk if I want to, thanks. It's one of the few things I can still do without you interfering." Harry rubbed his forehead, expecting his scar to burn, but no pain came. 

"The sooner you stop sulking, the sooner I can concentrate on our research, and the sooner you'll be rid of me," Voldemort said. Snape glanced at them and muttered something about 'impossible teenage boys'. 

"Yeah, well, you try having a Dark Lord camping in your mind and see how well you function," Harry said to Snape, who curved an eyebrow. 

"The Dark Lord has been a part of my life for a very long time, Potter, longer than you have been alive, in fact." Snape placed his right hand over his left forearm. "And yet I never allowed myself to wallow in self-pity because of it."

"Yeah, you saved that for what my dad and Sirius supposedly did to you," Harry muttered. 

Snape narrowed his eyes. "I am still your Professor, Potter, and you will address me with proper respect!"

"Funny. According to the _Prophet_ , you're my fiancé."

"Enough!" Voldemort bellowed. Snape lowered his eyes at once. "Harry, get yourself back under control before I make you. You want this situation resolved, then let us do our research."

"Fine," Harry said. "And then what? You get your body back, and then what happens?"

"That is a discussion for another day." Voldemort turned back to his book. 

"Just make sure that day comes soon," Harry said. Voldemort didn't respond, but turned a page and kept reading.

*--*--*

The steady accumulation of new problems in Harry's life finally seemed to level off during the next few weeks. Certainly nothing new happened that made any of the problems Harry already had worse, which counted for something.

He went to classes and did well in them, partially thanks to Voldemort's assistance, and partially because classes offered a perfect distraction. He let Voldemort and Snape do their research, and even tried to help but he was forced time and again to admit it didn't make much sense to him. He and Voldemort fucked Snape on most occasions they met in Snape's quarters. And when they didn't visit Snape, Voldemort jerked Harry off in his bed, usually after they'd spent some time talking about both important matters and trivial happenings at Hogwarts. 

Most students still gave Harry odd looks, but at least the Slytherins stopped singing their 'Harry the fairy' song after Snape caught them and, probably for the first time in history, took 50 points from Slytherin and assigned a few detentions. 

September came to an end, and October announced itself with chilly mornings and heavy rain, turning most Quidditch practices into mud-baths. Voldemort was not amused, but Harry refused to give up Quidditch. It seemed like the only thing he had left that was really his own. Everything else he shared with Voldemort, whether he liked it or not. 

He still didn't much like Snape, but he enjoyed the sex. He wasn't sure what he thought about Voldemort anymore. Yes, Voldemort was his enemy. Yes, Voldemort had killed his parents. Yes, Voldemort had few morals and no guilt. But Voldemort was always there, and it was hard to hate someone when you spent most of the day talking with them, even joking with them, and getting off with them. 

Harry was slick with sweat and slightly out of breath as he lay beside Snape after a particularly vigorous shag. Harry often stayed for a while, basking in the after-glow, but he never spent the entire night in Snape's rooms. Snape seemed fine with it. He was stretched out beside Harry, sounding just as out of breath. 

Frowning, Harry glanced at Snape. "I think he's asleep."

Snape stared at the ceiling and gave a mirthless chuckle. "If that is what you think, Potter, you truly have no idea who you are sharing a body with."

"He's quiet," Harry said, worrying his lip. "He's never quiet after...you know." He gestured between them. Yes, he could shag Snape like there was no tomorrow, but he still had trouble talking about it with him. 

"Mr Potter, I am quite sure the Dark Lord would enjoy nothing more than listening in on one of your conversations while you're convinced he can't hear you."

"True," Harry said. He scratched at his chest. "Besides, even if he were asleep at this moment, he could always just pull up my memory of any conversation at a later date."

"Indeed." Snape ran both hands across his face, and then stretched his arms over his head. He held them there for a moment, as though he was thinking about getting up. He dropped his arms beside his body and yawned. 

Harry watched him, not for the first time realizing it wasn't odd to see Snape naked anymore. He was used to it now. Used to seeing Snape naked, and used to feeling Snape's naked body beneath his own. 

"What do you think will happen when he gets his body back?" Harry asked. It was the only thing Voldemort still refused to talk about, and with every passing day Harry grew more and more impatient about getting a proper answer. 

"Honestly? I don't know, Potter."

"Who's going to lead the Order when Voldemort returns? Moody replaced Dumbledore last year, but Moody's dead, too."

Snape pursed his lips and still didn't look at Harry. 

"And what about the Horcruxes? I'm a Horcrux now, so we know of one at least, but what about the others? How do we -- "

"Potter, be quiet!" Snape turned his head and glared at Harry. "It is none of our concern at this time."

"None of our concern?" Harry sat up and stared at Snape in disbelief. "Of course it's our concern. We're the only ones who know he's still alive, so we're the only ones who can stop him once and -- " Harry's scar burned so badly he collapsed back against his pillow, grasping at his head.

"I gather he is awake?" Snape asked. He sounded amused, the bastard. Harry gave a pained nod. 

"Harry," Voldemort said. "What am I to do with you? Here I hold my tongue for five minutes and you go scheming my downfall. You disappoint me, my little Horcrux."

"What else do you expect me to do?" Harry asked. He blinked his eyes open once the pain leaked away. "You won't answer my question! What is going to happen when you get your body back?"

"Now is not the time," Voldemort said patiently. 

Harry sat up again. "Now is the time, Tom. I'm sick and tired of you evading my question."

"Potter, use your brain," Snape said, pushing himself upright as well. "You're a Horcrux. What has the Dark Lord been doing with his Horcruxes so far?"

Narrowing his eyes, Harry stared at Snape. He knew the answer, but he didn't want to say it. "Keeping them safe," he whispered. 

"Exactly. And how do you suppose the Dark Lord will keep a Horcrux which can walk and think for itself safe?"

"He'll have to watch me." Harry swallowed. "He'll have to keep me by his side."

"Thank you for finally proving you are not a complete idiot after all." Snape released a deep sigh.

"He's not going to let me go, is he?" Harry's stomach turned, and he swallowed again. "Even if he gets his body back, he's not going to leave me alone."

"Why don't you ask him?" Snape arched an eyebrow in a silent dare. 

"Tom? Talk to me." Harry hunched, gripping at the sheets beneath him. "Tell me, dammit!"

"Don't act so surprised, Harry," Voldemort said. "You are not a stupid boy, no matter what Severus may claim. You have known this for a while now."

"Tell me!"

"I will keep you alive and safe, my little Horcrux."

"You fucking bastard!" Harry jumped up from the bed and threw his pillow against the far wall. "You promised!"

"I never promised you that," Voldemort said, and Harry hurled himself at the wall, banging his fists against it. "We made a deal. You help me get my body back, and I will leave your little friends alone. I never said anything about leaving you alone."

"I will kill you!" Harry screamed, and wanted to kick against the wall, but Snape wrapped his arms around him from behind, and dragged him back to bed. 

"You cannot kill me. You know this."

"I'll find a way, I swear!" Harry struggled against Snape, but Snape pushed him onto the mattress and spooned against him, keeping his limbs from flailing. 

"Harry, there isn't a way. Accept it. I will keep you safe. I will treat you like a friend. I enjoy your company. And you enjoy mine, there is no denying that."

Harry panted against the sheets, finally getting himself back under control. "All right," he said. "So you keep me as your little pet, you bastard. Then what?"

"Potter, stop it," Snape said, releasing some of his hold on Harry. "You got your answer."

"If I'm going to be his little friend for the rest of his life, I think I have a fucking right to know what he plans on doing with it!" Harry wrestled away from Snape and crawled towards the headboard. He leaned against it, trying to catch his breath. "Tell me, Tom!"

"You know what I want," Voldemort said. "My goals and desires haven't changed."

"Immortality. But you have that. And power. You want power. What kind of power?"

Voldemort kept quiet, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut. 

"He wants to rule Britain, Potter. That much is obvious," Snape said, sounding tired. He sat beside Harry.

"All right." Harry nodded, trying to gather his thoughts through the raging currents that were his emotions. "You want to rule Britain. You'll want to start with the wizarding world, and when you conquer that, I'm thinking you'll move onto the Muggle world, right?"

"I have considered it," Voldemort said. 

"And you'll go about it in the exact same way as before, yes?"

"Of course."

Harry snorted. "Well, it's a stupid plan."

"Potter!" Snape stared at Harry in disbelief. "Watch your tone!"

"Hey, Tom's been in my head for months now. He's used to my tone." Harry licked his lips and inhaled a deep breath. "Now let me tell you why it's a stupid plan. People aren't going to let you. Let's say you conquer the wizarding world and you crown yourself emperor or whatever."

Voldemort laughed, but Harry ignored him.

"So you move onto the Muggle world. Let's say you are more powerful than Britain's Muggle army, which I doubt. You can't die, but they sure as hell can blow you to tiny bits with a tank."

Snape buried his face in his hands and shook his head. 

"But let's say you rule Britain. Do you honestly think the rest of the world is going to let you? Do you really think billions of Muggles around the globe are going to let some maniacal wizard commit genocide on Muggles?" Harry paused, but as expected, Voldemort didn't reply. 

"I'll tell you what they'll do. The United Nations or America or whomever are going to take the biggest nuclear bomb they can find and drop it right on your head. Remember _Armageddon_ , Tom? Yeah, expect one of those fuckers deposited on your lawn. You won't stand a chance, and you'll take all of us with you, you fucking bastard!"

"That is enough," Voldemort said softly.

Harry leaned his head against the wall and gasped for breath. Was he hyperventilating? Possibly. He wasn't sure what he was feeling. He was thinking of killing himself, but he didn't want to die. He was thinking of telling the world Voldemort wasn't dead, but he didn't want his friends to die. He was thinking of just going along with Voldemort quietly, but he wanted a life of his own. A life that was worth living. 

"You've got a second chance, Tom," Harry said. His cheeks were wet, and he wiped at them irritably. "Do you realize that? You've got a chance to do it over, and do it right this time."

Snape lowered his hands and looked at Harry with wide eyes. 

"What are you saying, Harry?" Voldemort asked. 

"I'm saying that people believe you dead for real this time, present company excluded. For as far as I know, there is no one out there who is expecting you to come back. So when you do get your body back, you can do something different this time."

"Harry," Voldemort said with a chuckle. "Do you expect me to change my spots? Do you think I'll get a quiet job at the Ministry and run for Minister for Magic in a few years?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I know you won't change that much. But you can get power in different ways. This whole business we're researching now, Soul Magic, and all the other stuff you've been telling me about. You're an expert on that. Probably the only one in existence. And not all of it is Dark, and even some of what is considered Dark isn't really. You could bring that information out into the open. An expert on the kind of magic that has been lost for so many generations would be the most powerful wizard in the world."

Silence followed, only interrupted by Harry's ragged breaths. He wiped sweat off his brow and tears from his cheeks, and waited for Voldemort's verdict.

"I will consider it," Voldemort finally said, and Harry released a breath that seemed to come from his toes. 

"Thank you," he whispered. He glanced at Snape, and Snape grasped Harry's cheeks with both hands and pressed a long, hard kiss against his lips. It made Harry grin. 

"Don't get your hopes up just yet, my friends," Voldemort said. "I will not allow someone else to dictate my life."

"I know," Harry said. He kept grinning at Snape, who seemed very close to smiling himself. "But it's not a bad plan."

"I certainly have heard worse, my little Horcrux."


	4. Chapter 4

The next evening they were back to research as usual. Harry hadn't brought up his new plan for Voldemort's future again; he was well aware Voldemort wasn't the kind of bloke you could force into making a decision. Harry knew he had to be patient, yet he also knew he was right. If Voldemort went on as before, none of them stood a chance in the end. 

They sat in their chairs with a pot of steaming tea between them and opened books in their laps. Both Snape and Voldemort were reading, while Harry composed his Charms essay in the peace and quiet of this mind. That way, he only needed to write it down when he returned to his dormitory later. 

"My Lord," Snape said, breaking the hour-long silence. "I think...yes, this seems highly relevant."

Voldemort got up at once and stood beside Snape's chair. Harry forgot the last sentence he'd been constructing, and it had been a good sentence, too. Sighing, he looked down to see what all the fuss was about. 

"Here, see? A clear reference to binding the three elements of Sekem." Snape pointed at a paragraph in his book. "Lion bile, vulture claws, and," Snape frowned, "elephant dung."

Harry started snickering, but was cut off when Voldemort said, "I believe you are correct, Severus."

"You've got to eat elephant dung?" Harry asked, and laughed. 

"Potter, hold your juvenile tongue. These are potions ingredients," Snape snarled. 

"Besides, were I to ingest it, it will be through your mouth, Harry," Voldemort said. Harry stopped laughing at once. 

"I'll purchase these ingredients and test the potion again," Snape said. "When can you obtain the vessel itself?"

"Whenever you believe the potion ready," Voldemort said. He sat back down. "It's merely a case of collecting it. I know where it is kept."

Snape inclined his head. 

"So who was this Sekem bloke, anyway?" Harry asked, in an attempt to show some interest in the situation. 

Snape stared at him and released an exasperated sigh. 

"Sekem is not a person, Harry," Voldemort said. He obviously had a lot more patience than Snape. "The Egyptians believed the human soul is divided in seven parts. Sekem is one of them, and it represents the energy, power and light of a person."

"Ah," Harry said, feeling just a little stupid. "Is that why you split your soul into seven pieces?"

"And finally he proves he's been paying some attention," Snape said, shaking his head, as if he couldn't quite believe it. Harry glared at him, but as usual it had little effect on Snape, who glared right back at him. 

"Yes," Voldemort said. "That is why seven is the most powerful number when it comes to Soul Magic."

"That makes sense." Harry tilted his head and looked Snape up and down. "So can we have a celebratory shag now?"

Snape threw a Potions magazine at him, while Voldemort chuckled in a way that melted Harry's bones, yet hardened his cock.

*--*--*

"Tom?" Harry turned on his back and kicked off his sheets. He couldn't sleep. Now that they were one step closer to getting Voldemort a body, there were so many questions that haunted him.

_"Hmm?"_

"I was just thinking," Harry said.

_"I can tell by my lack of sleep."_

"Ha, ha. Seriously. When you get your body back, I don't suppose...er...I mean -- "

_"Spit it out, Harry."_

"You're not going to let me be an Auror, right? When you keep me, I mean." Harry sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Voldemort remained silent for a moment, as if considering things carefully. _"Why do you want to become an Auror in the first place?"_

"Er..." Harry frowned. He'd never actually thought about it. "I'm not sure. It seems like the right thing to do."

_"Ah. You believe you should become an Auror."_

"Well, I've spent most of my life either running from or hunting down this Dark Lord. You might have heard of him. Nasty chap."

Voldemort chuckled. _"So now you blame me for your poor career choice."_

Sighing, Harry turned on his side and plucked at his pillow. "I don't know what else to do with my life."

_"What do you believe I will do with you once I get my body back, Harry? Do you believe I will lock you in a golden cage? Or a cupboard, even?"_

"Well," Harry said, and he fell quiet. To be honest, he'd tried to avoid thinking about that particular consequence of helping Voldemort. 

_"I have no interest in keeping you a prisoner for the rest of our lives."_

"But you're not going to give me a life of my own, either."

_"We are connected in more ways than one, my little Horcrux. I believe it is time you accept that no matter what you or I do, you will never have a life of your own."_

Harry didn't want to accept that, no matter how right Voldemort was. He didn't want to accept that, even if he should get away from Voldemort at some point, he'd always be connected to him and that their paths would most likely cross often for as long as they lived. 

_"I prefer you make this decision on your own, and that you join me of your own free will. It would make both our lives more pleasant. However, I am not above forcing you, as well you know."_

Harry snorted. "Yeah, I know." He was well aware Voldemort wanted him to choose to be by his side. Harry wasn't too keen on the idea, but he realized it did give him an advantage. 

"I want to make a new deal. Another deal," he said, sitting up in his bed. 

_"And what deal would that be?"_

"When you get your body back, you do as I suggested. Start a new life. Give up the whole world-domination idea. Leave Britain. Go study all that ancient magic you like so much abroad."

_"That is a lot to ask of me. What can I expect in return?"_

"I'll stop trying to kill you."

_"Oh, how generous of you."_ Voldemort's laughter warmed Harry's chest. 

Harry slammed his fist down against the mattress. "Stop it! I'm serious. I'll stop trying to kill you. I'll come with you. Willingly." Harry swallowed. "I'll let you keep me."

_"That certainly in an intriguing offer."_

"Well?" Harry lay back down. He was suddenly cold, and he pulled the sheets up to his chin. 

_"I want some time to consider it."_

Sighing, Harry closed his eyes. "You have until you get your body back. I want an answer before then."

_"Agreed."_

*--*--*

Harry was in much better spirits the following day. Even though he hadn't yet received an answer from Voldemort, he felt like he was finally getting some control back over the whole mess that was his life. He'd offered Voldemort a good deal, and he was quite certain Voldemort would accept it. And his life, while not being perfect, would be all right. There wouldn't be another war. People would be safe.

He left Gryffindor Tower early in the evening and strolled down to the dungeons. Perhaps Snape had already purchased the new ingredients. That was good news. And good news, as Harry had learned, meant good shags. 

As he neared the Entrance Hall, someone stepped out of an empty classroom and grabbed his arm. 

Harry whipped around, while Voldemort already reached for his wand. They were getting good at team work.

"Ginny!" Harry stared at Ginny's distraught face. "What's going on?"

"I need to talk to you," Ginny said, and pulled him into the classroom. "In private."

Harry frowned, but allowed Ginny to close the door. He hadn't talked to her since their brief exchange on the Hogwarts Express. He still missed her, but it was getting easier. Regular sex proved a great medicine to heal all matters of the heart. 

"Are you all right?" he asked. Voldemort still had Harry's hand around his wand inside the pocket of his robes. _Let's just see what she wants,_ Harry thought. 

_"I am merely being careful. It is a useful quality to have."_

"Yeah, I'm okay," Ginny said. She stepped a little closer to Harry. "It's you I'm worried about."

A shiver ran down Harry's spine. "What do you mean? I'm fine."

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "I know you, Harry. You're not fine."

"All right," Harry said, trying to sound carefree. "Then tell me what is wrong with me, because the last time I checked, I was doing okay."

"Ron and Hermione won't believe me," Ginny said. She leaned back against a desk and gave Harry a pleading look. "But they don't see what I see."

Harry felt his fingers tighten around his wand. He shook his head. "Is this about me being gay, Ginny? Because I'm really sorry about not saying anything to you and hurting you."

"No. This is about you spending so much time alone, or with Snape -- "

"So it is about me being gay," Harry said. He didn't like where this conversation was going, and he needed for Ginny to leave him alone. "Look, I'm really sorry, but I enjoy spending time with Snape, and --"

"It's about you staring off into space at the oddest moments. It's about you acting differently. It's about you saying these things I know you would never say. I know you, Harry, and you're not being you."

Harry sneered and marched towards the door. "I offered you my apologies, but apparently that's not enough for you, and really, that's not my problem."

"I know what it's like to be possessed, Harry!"

Harry's eyes fell shut. _Fuck!_ His wand was in his hand, aimed at Ginny. _Don't,_ he thought. 

_"She leaves me no choice but to alter her memory, Harry."_

"Ginny," Harry said, forcing air past his vocal chords while Voldemort tried to silence him. "Run! Get out of here! Apparate to the Ministry! Go to Percy! Stay the -- " His breath was cut off, and Harry was forced to watch himself walk closer and closer to Ginny, who stared at him with wide eyes. 

"Harry?"

"No. Harry is unavailable at the moment." 

Ginny's flushed cheeks paled, and Harry threw himself against the boundaries inside his mind. _Don't you fucking dare!_

"You should have minded your own business, girl. You see, I will go to great lengths to keep Harry and myself safe. Don't," Voldemort said, as Ginny's hand moved towards the pocket where she kept her wand. "There is nothing you can do but allow me to take a little peek in your mind to see who else you have told of your suspicions."

_Tom, don't you fucking dare hurt her!_

Voldemort smiled, and touched the tip of Harry's wand to Ginny's chin. 

_"This will be easier if you do not interfere, Harry."_

And Harry fell into darkness. He fell and fell and fell until he knew no more.

*--*--*

Harry woke up to a strange sense of déjà vu. He was standing in an enormous room with high pillars entwined with stone snakes, and there, at the foot of Slytherin's immense statue, lay a still figure with flaming red hair face-down on the floor.

"What did you do to her?" Harry rushed towards Ginny and dropped to his knees beside her. He rolled her over and stared into wide, lifeless eyes. "Oh, fuck. No! You fucking bastard, no!"

_"I tried to alter her mind, Harry. I tried removing her memories that led her to those conclusions about you. But her knowledge of possession, of me, was too far ingrained in her mind. Had I removed all those memories, there would have been nothing left of her personality. It was easier this way."_

"You killed her!" Harry slammed his fists down on the floor beside Ginny's dead body. "You fucking killed her! We had a deal!"

_"We still have a deal. As long as your friends do not find out about us, they are perfectly safe."_

"You call this safe?" Harry yanked his glasses off and buried his face in his hands. 

_"I know you do not appreciate my effort, but I was doing it to keep us safe, Harry."_

"Don't give me your bloody excuses. I'm sick and tired of your excuses why you have to kill anyone who gets in your way." Harry lowered his hands and stared at Ginny's face. Her lips were purplish. "You're never going to stop, are you?"

_"There was no other way. She would have betrayed us both."_

Harry sprung to his feet. "I was willing to give you my life, you fucking bastard! I was willing to give you everything! And this is what you do?"

_"A life for a life, Harry. Consider the life-debt you owe me paid."_

Harry's jaw dropped. "What?"

_"I saved your life, remember? I accept this as payment. A life for a life."_

"I am done with you!" Harry turned on his feet, intent on stomping straight out of the Chamber, but Voldemort stopped him. "No more deals. No more, Tom. See if you can keep your precious Horcrux safe from now on."

_"Harry, do not force me to keep you locked up in your own mind until I get my body back. She would have betrayed us both. This was the only way to keep us safe."_

Harry clasped his hands over his ears and pulled on his hair. Guilt washed over him in cold waves until he felt he couldn't breathe anymore. He'd saved Ginny years ago. He thought he could keep his friends safe now. It was all his fault for not fighting Voldemort, for believing he could save them all. 

_"It is not up to you to save the entire world. It wasn't even up to you to save this girl."_

"You killed her," Harry whispered. "I will never forgive you for that."

_"I know."_

Harry's shoulders shook. "You killed her."

_"I made it quick. She did not suffer."_

"You killed her."

_"Your other friends are safe. She didn't tell them about her suspicions, only that she worried about you."_

Tears dripped from Harry's eyes, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. "You killed her."

_"No one can know about this. You did not meet her this evening. You spent the entire time in Severus' quarters. We will leave her body here. She will merely be reported missing, and teenage girls are notorious for running away at the drop of a hat."_

Harry slowly looked up, his eyes burning and his cheeks raw. "Leave her here?"

_"Of course. No one will find her here. The only two people in the world able to open the Chamber of Secrets are you and I, Harry."_

"No." Harry shook his head. "You're not leaving her here to just...rot." Pressing a hand over his mouth, Harry swallowed back the bile that rose up from his stomach. 

_"Do not try my patience in this!"_

"Your patience?" Harry spat. "I don't give a fuck about your patience, Tom. Not anymore."

_"She should have died here years ago! You merely extended her little life with a few years, but you did not change her fate!"_

"Her life did not belong to you!"

_"And neither did it to you! It was not yours to save, Harry."_

"I'm through with this," Harry said. He picked up his glasses and looked at Ginny one last time. "I'm through with you, Tom." 

Let Voldemort try to keep him safe and alive. Harry was determined to fight and win, no matter what it took. He turned to walk back towards the entrance, but Voldemort took control of his body and stalked towards the statue. There was a small door hidden behind one of the stone legs. Voldemort opened it with a tap of Harry's wand.

_"We are going to see Severus. Perhaps he can talk some sense into you."_

_I hate you,_ Harry thought, as Voldemort walked through a narrow, dark corridor. 

_"I know."_

*--*--*

Snape stood with his back turned to Harry. "Potter, and here I thought you at least possessed enough intelligence to tell time. Clearly I was mistaken, as you are over one hour late."

"Severus."

"My Lord?" Snape glanced over his shoulder, and his carefully constructed sneer vanished. "Forgive me."

"We had a bit of a situation that needed my attention." Voldemort waved Snape towards his private rooms. "Come, we must talk."

They sat down in their usual seats, and Snape stared at Harry with narrowed eyes. "Potter?"

"Harry is unavailable at the moment," Voldemort said, and started telling Snape what had happened. 

It was funny, in a morbid way, but Harry did feel unavailable at that moment. He was there, he heard everything Voldemort said, he saw Snape's shocked face, and yet he felt as if there was nothing left of him. Whatever had kept him going ever since he'd woken up from his coma was gone, obliterated by the same Killing Curse Voldemort had used on Ginny. He was empty and worthless and so fucking stupid for ever believing Voldemort would not hurt his friends when it suited him. 

"This is a most unfortunate incident," Snape said. He seemed to mean it. 

"Indeed. Harry seems...upset. He certainly refused to listen to reason when I offered it to him." Voldemort shook his head. "I was hoping you'd be able to talk some sense into him."

"Yes, of course." Snape got up, and collected a bottle and two tumblers from a small cabinet. 

"I will release him, then." And with that Harry felt control flow back to him. He sagged in his chair and didn't look up when Snape thrust one of the glasses into his hand. 

"Drink," Snape said, and sat back down, sipping his own glass. "You'll need it."

Harry just stared at the glass, too tired and empty to move as much as a finger. 

"Potter, I am going to ask you a few questions, and I expect an answer." Snape waited until Harry gave a faint nod. "Are you upset with the Dark Lord for what he did?"

"He fucking killed Ginny!" 

"So I heard." Snape took another sip. "Tell me, Mr Potter, did you or did you not know the Dark Lord has a history of killing those who oppose him?"

Harry stared at Snape. "Are you serious?"

"Just answer my question!"

"Yes, of course I knew! The fucker killed my parents!" 

"Good." Snape gave Harry an annoying little smile. "Then you also knew that even in his current state, the Dark Lord will not hesitate to eliminate those who threaten him. Am I correct?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah."

"And yet you brought the Dark Lord here, and you allowed him to stay at this school, share with you your House, your friends, yes, even your bed, knowing full well what could happen the moment any of your meddling friends became just a bit too nosy. Correct?"

Glancing down, Harry nodded. 

"Mr Potter, the only thing you should be upset about at this time is that you failed to understand who you were dealing with. The Dark Lord is who he is. You can agree or disagree with him as you please, but you can never expect him to change that behavior which has been successful for him in the past."

Harry gave Snape an incredulous look. "What?"

"Allow me to put it in simple words for you. You befriended a dragon, yet you treated him like a puffskein, and now you are surprised and upset your dragon bit the head off one of your friends who failed to understand it is best not to threaten a dragon."

"Oh, so now it's my fault?" Harry couldn't believe Snape. 

"You are not listening, Potter. I am merely saying it is time you started treating your new best friend like a wild dragon with the capacity to kill, instead of thinking you can exert any control over him. Show him the respect you would give any wild animal and do not for one second think he will ever be tame."

Harry finally raised his glass to his lips and took a swig. Whatever it was, it burned the back of his throat and made his eyes water. He inhaled a deep breath, and whispered, "He just killed her."

"He did not just kill her, Potter. He tried to salvage the situation by altering her memory, but Miss Weasley's knowledge of certain critical elements from your current situation were too extensive, and thus in the end he was left no other choice but to kill her."

"But he can't just go around killing people!"

"Of course he can! Just because it isn't something you might do, doesn't mean suddenly the Dark Lord is going to adjust himself to your standards. And it is time you understand that. Yes, it is most unfortunate Miss Weasley confronted you the way she did, however, it was something even a blind man could have seen coming."

Harry took another gulp of his drink. He liked that it burned. At least it made him feel something. "I should never have come here, to Hogwarts."

Snape leaned back in his seat in a way that seemed to communicate agreement. "You were in denial, Potter. The worst case of denial I have ever seen, in fact."

"I just wanted things to be over." Harry wrapped an arm around himself. "I wanted to have a normal life and I risked everything for it and it got Ginny killed."

Snape inclined his head. "However, things aren't over, and by the look of it, they never will be. And you really should accept that, Potter, or more people will get killed."

"Yeah." Harry's eyes teared up, and he quickly squeezed them shut. He was not going to cry in front of Snape. Something touched his knee, and when Harry opened his eyes, he saw Snape crouching in front of him. 

Snape cleared his throat. "I wanted things to be over, too, Potter. I was willing to stab anyone in the back for it. I killed for it. And where did it get me? Right back at square one. And I finally understood that no matter how much I want to see things change, some things never do." 

Closing his eyes again, Harry leaned forward and rested his cheek on Snape's shoulder, his nose buried against Snape's throat. And while Harry didn't make a sound and his breathing stayed slow and even, the robes beneath his face were wet.

*--*--*

"Here." Snape handed Harry a full glass of what seemed to be whisky, according to the label on the bottle.

The idea of Snape offering comfort was strange. Granted, all Snape had done was let Harry lean against him and weep on his shoulder (much to Harry's horror, now that he thought about it), but it had still been comforting. 

Voldemort had kept quiet the entire time. Did he realize he'd been wrong? No. Harry had to stop thinking like that. Voldemort was Voldemort, nothing more and nothing less. Voldemort had done as he'd always done, and Harry had enabled him.

And Harry finally understood that getting upset about it served absolutely no purpose for any of them. 

"I don't know if I can do this anymore," Harry said, touching his forehead where he imagined Voldemort to be. "I thought I could – I finally had some life of my own – I was normal -- "

"Potter," Snape said, staring at Harry over the rim of his glass. "You never were normal, you never will be normal, and quite frankly, I don't believe you even want to be normal."

"Huh?" Harry felt too numb to get annoyed with Snape's dismissal. 

"If you truly wanted to be normal, you wouldn't have taken on the Dark Lord by yourself in your first year. You wouldn't have hurried down to the Chamber of Secrets in your second year. You wouldn't have chased an escaped criminal down a hole in the ground in your third year. You wouldn't have participated in the TriWizard Tournament without any protest in -- "

Harry frowned. "It wasn't as if I had a choice."

"Of course you had a choice!" Snape leaned forward in his chair, eyes hardening. "Dire a choice it may be, you always had one, and you always chose to be as abnormal a teenage boy as was humanly possible."

"Er..." Harry blinked.

"Even now, instead of hiding away while trying to do the Dark Lord's bidding so he won't go after your precious friends, you made a choice. And in your preposterous quest to be 'normal', you made the most abnormal choice in your entire life."

"I shouldn't have come to Hogwarts, I know that," Harry muttered. 

"No, you shouldn't have come to Hogwarts thinking everything would be 'normal' just because you attended school."

"I know that, all right?" Harry said, his voice tight. "I thought I could handle things – I've always handled things – and now Ginny's dead, and I should have seen it coming, I know!"

"Potter, there is no handling the Dark Lord. He handles you."

Harry closed his eyes. He knew that. It was just easier to ignore it. "I don't know anymore where I end and Voldemort begins. I don't know anymore if what I'm feeling comes from me or from Voldemort." He snorted. "Well, I know this last hour was all me, since Voldemort enjoys killing -- "

"I didn't enjoy killing the girl, Harry." Voldemort's sudden comment startled Harry, and he sloshed whisky over his hand.

"Right. Like you didn't enjoy killing my parents. I felt -- "

"I did not enjoy killing the girl because I knew it would hurt you," Voldemort said. "You are a part of me, my little Horcrux. I do not enjoy hurting myself."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Instead he sipped his whisky, utterly confused how he should feel about Voldemort's confession. 

"It seems Harry has calmed down," Voldemort said. Snape nodded at that. "Thank you, Severus."

"My pleasure," Snape said, nodding again. "It was high time someone made the boy see reason." 

"Harry, I know you are thinking of leaving Hogwarts."

"Er..." Harry had been thinking that. 

"However, we cannot leave at this time. It would look too suspicious for you to disappear right after the girl. We will remain here until Severus completes the potion. Should you feel unable to deal with daily life here in your current state of grief, I will do it for you."

"You're not giving me a choice in this, are you?"

Voldemort smiled. "No, Harry, I am not."

*--*--*

Harry walked back to Gryffindor Tower by himself. He was damned if he was going to use Voldemort as a crutch. He could handle this. He'd faced far worse – no, that wasn't true. He didn't think he'd ever faced worse, but he could still handle it.

He repeated that phrase over and over in his mind. He could handle it. Voldemort was living inside his body? He could handle it. Ginny was lying dead in the Chamber of Secrets? He could handle it. He'd been the one to give Voldemort the opportunity to kill Ginny? He could handle it. 

Until he stepped inside the common room and saw Ron and Hermione sitting cozily on the couch together. God, they had no idea. No one knew what had happened that evening. Ron didn't know his sister was dead. 

Harry froze, and at once Voldemort took over. 

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked. "You look very pale."

Voldemort sat down beside her. "Snape and I had a row," he said, shoulders hunched. "About Voldemort and Dumbledore."

"That bastard," Ron said, eager to come to Harry's defense as usual.

Smiling, Voldemort shook his head. "Well, yeah. But we talked about it, and everything is fine now."

"That's good," Hermione said. Ron looked a little disappointed. 

"It was just tiring, you know? Gave me a bloody headache, so I'm going to bed."

"Good night, Harry." Hermione smiled at him, and it was that smile that cut straight through Harry's heart. They had no idea what he'd done, and he could never tell them, either, or they'd end up dead, too. 

Voldemort didn't give control back until they reached the dormitory. Harry didn't acknowledge it. He slipped into his pajamas and got into bed. 

_"Let me help you relax, Harry."_ Voldemort moved Harry's hand inside his pajama bottoms. 

"Don't," Harry said through gritted teeth. "Don't touch me. Don't even talk to me. Just let me be."

His hand fell against the mattress. _"Very well."_ Voldemort didn't say anything else, and Harry concentrated on the unusual silence in his head until he finally fell asleep.

*--*--*

At breakfast the next morning, Harry waited for the bomb to drop. When he'd woken up, he'd been unable to put on his glasses without his hands trembling, so Voldemort had taken over from there. And now all Harry could do was watch and wait until someone noticed Ginny was missing.

It didn't take very long. 

Two sixth-year girls whose names Harry couldn't remember approached Ron. 

"Have you seen Ginny?" one of them asked. Ron looked up from his bacon and eggs and shook his head. 

The girl wrung her hand in the front of her robes. "She went to see Blaise last night, and she wasn't back yet when we went to bed. So at first we thought she was...you know, still with Blaise." The girl swallowed when Ron narrowed his eyes. "But this morning, she wasn't in her bed either, and now Blaise is here and she's not, so we're a little worried."

Ron looked at Hermione, who frowned in obvious concern. "I haven't seen her since dinner last night."

"Me neither," Voldemort said, looking just as concerned as Hermione.

"Let's have a chat with that bloody Slytherin about my sister," Ron said, and pushed himself up. Hermione did the same, as did Voldemort. 

"Zabini, where's my sister?" Ron asked as they neared the Slytherin table. 

"How am I supposed to know?" Zabini said. "She didn't show up last night."

"And you think I believe that?" Ron reached for his wand, but Hermione placed a hand on his arm to stop him. 

"Listen, Blaise," she said. "No one's seen Ginny since she went to see you last night. Do you know anything? Did you two have a fight?"

"No, I don't, and no, we didn't."

"Mr Weasley, perhaps you'd care to explain why you're harassing my students?" Snape stood behind them, and Harry hadn't even seen or hear him approach.

"Professor, Ginny's missing. Apparently she went to see Blaise last night, but she never returned to her dormitory," Hermione said. 

Snape's eyes narrowed as he looked first at Hermione and then at Zabini. "I believe the Headmistress should be informed about this. Blaise, come with me."

Ron made to follow Snape as well, but Snape turned to glare at him. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To see the Headmistress!"

"This does not concern you, Weasley. We're merely informing her. Your sister is most likely hiding in a bathroom somewhere, crying over something or other like little teenage girls are wont to do." And with that, Snape swept away to the Head Table, Zabini on his heels. 

"That bastard," Ron said, and looked at Harry. "Couldn't you have said something? He's your...whatever he is."

Voldemort raised his hands in surrender. "I'm not getting involved in that, Ron."

"Maybe Snape is right," Hermione said, though she sounded doubtful. "Maybe she did have a fight with Zabini. Or maybe she just needs some time alone." Hermione gave Ron a pointed look. "She has been upset quite a bit lately."

Harry knew they were talking about him, about how they believed Harry's sudden homosexuality had hurt Ginny a great deal. Little did they know Ginny was the only one who'd figured out the truth and now she was dead. 

Voldemort pretended not to understand what they were saying. "Let's just sit back down. I'm sure McGonagall will sort it out."

"Yeah," Ron said, but he didn't sound convinced.

*--*--*

News about Ginny's mysterious disappearance spread like a wildfire and by the end of classes that day the whole school was talking about it.

McGonagall and Hestia Jones were waiting for them in the common room. 

"Come with me," McGonagall said to Ron, and added, "You two might come as well."

Voldemort, who'd kept control over Harry the whole day, much to Harry's relief, followed McGonagall obediently down to her office. As they entered, Harry saw Mr and Mrs Weasley seated in front of McGonagall's desk.

McGonagall conjured a few more chairs for Harry and his friends, just as Mrs Weasley turned in her seat to look at them. And at the sight of Mrs Weasley's tear-streaked face, Harry wanted to die. He really, truly wanted everything to be over with, just hurl himself into the darkness of oblivion. He would never be able to tell them what really happened, even if he got rid of Voldemort, even if he killed Voldemort, he knew he'd never be able to confess he'd played a part in their daughter's death. Dying was so much easier than living with the weight of that secret. 

_"The death of one girl is not worth dying over, Harry."_

Harry didn't respond. He honestly didn't know what to say to Voldemort anymore.

"We have searched every classroom, every bathroom, and all the towers," McGonagall said, sitting down behind her desk. Hestia Jones stood beside her. "The ghosts have looked, we've asked the portraits for help, but no one has seen any sign of Ginny."

Mrs Weasley pressed a handkerchief to her mouth, and Mr Weasley put a hand on her knee. 

"When did you three last see Ginny?" McGonagall asked. 

"After dinner last night," Ron said. Both Hermione and Voldemort nodded. "She left to see Zabini, apparently."

"Yes. Severus has questioned Mr Zabini. Ginny never arrived at their usual meeting place in the south tower."

"Of course Zabini would say that," Ron said, brows furrowing. 

"Mr Weasley, I assure you Professor Snape was most thorough in his interrogation." McGonagall narrowed her eyes, and Ron looked down at the floor. "Now, did Ginny seem upset when she left the common room last night? Had she been in a fight with anyone?"

Hermione bit her lip and glanced at Harry. "Well," she said. "She'd been getting more and more upset lately about Harry."

"Huh?" said Voldemort in a perfect imitation of Harry. "She never said anything to me."

"Miss Granger, please explain yourself."

"She seemed upset about the fact that Harry's gay and in a relationship with Professor Snape. She was convinced Harry wasn't acting like himself and that someone, Snape I think, was forcing him."

Voldemort sighed. "Snape's not forcing me." He looked up at McGonagall. "Do you think the Headmistress would allow our relationship if she thought that for just one second?"

McGonagall nodded. "You're quite right, Potter. Now, Ginny has been missing for almost twenty-four hours. Molly, Arthur, while I am convinced nothing serious has happened to her, I would like to contact the Ministry and ask Kingsley Shacklebolt to start an investigation."

Mrs Weasley let out a soft cry in her handkerchief, and Mr Weasley nodded vigorously. "Yes, please, Minerva."

"I will contact him at once." McGonagall looked at Harry and his friends. "You three are dismissed, but I do ask you to keep your eyes and ears open, and if you see or hear anything that might be of use, inform me immediately."

"Yes, Professor," Voldemort said, and followed Ron and Hermione out of the office. "Why didn't you ever say anything about Ginny?" he asked the moment they stepped into the corridor. 

"What do you expect, Harry," Hermione said, giving him an accusatory glance. "With the way you dumped her and suddenly hooked up with Snape of all people."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "If you'd told me, I could have talked to her, at least. And then maybe this wouldn't have happened!"

Hermione's expression softened. "Oh, Harry, it isn't your fault Ginny's suddenly disappeared."

Voldemort shrugged, and something inside Harry's chest broke, Harry was sure of it. How could Hermione say that to him when he'd been the one to lead Ginny to her death? 

"Yeah, mate," Ron said. 

"We'll find her," Voldemort said. He sounded stubborn, and it was scary how good he really was at acting and talking exactly like Harry. "She can't have just disappeared."

Harry wanted to die. Maybe Voldemort could keep his body and put Harry in a coma forever. That sounded good. 

_"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. You have dealt with loss before. You lost your parents and your godfather, and you made it through in one piece, didn't you? You will make it through again, I assure you."_

Harry wanted to point out Voldemort was the one responsible for him losing his parents and godfather, but really, what was the use? Voldemort knew that. He just didn't care.

*--*--*

Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived at Hogwarts the next day, and by the time classes were over, rumors were running wild. Zabini had supposedly been arrested and taken to the Ministry where they'd questioned him under Veritaserum about him killing Ginny. That was, until Zabini appeared at dinner, looking perfectly fine.

The day after that the whole school was convinced Ginny had drowned herself in the lake because she'd been unable to get over Harry and his sudden homosexuality. However, McGonagall talked with the merpeople and had the giant squid sweep the lake, and it became quite clear Ginny wasn't there, either. 

And yet another day later, rumor went that Ginny had been cheating on Zabini with a mysterious lover she was supposed to meet in the Forbidden Forest, where she'd sadly been ripped apart by either a vicious werewolf or an aggressive troll. Hagrid talked with the centaurs, and they assured him Ginny had not been seen in or around the forest. 

And all that time Harry kept hidden away in his own mind while Voldemort played the part of worried yet clueless friend. Voldemort offered Harry control back a few times, but Harry was perfectly fine where he was. He didn't want to talk to his friends about Ginny. He didn't want to face anyone. It was easier to pretend he wasn't even alive to begin with. 

Shacklebolt did question people, but he did so discreetly and without Veritaserum. Voldemort answered Kingsley's questions in a convincing manner, and that was the last they saw of him. 

Snape helped searching for Ginny where he could, and in the time he had left he experimented with the potion for Sekem's Vessel. 

Harry didn't fuck Snape. Sex was the last thing on his mind. He even refused when Voldemort offered to help him relax before sleep. And most surprisingly, after every refusal, Voldemort let the matter rest. 

That Saturday, Voldemort spent an hour with Ron and Hermione studying the Marauder's Map carefully, but as expected, they found no trace of Ginny on it. The Marauders, after all, had never discovered the Chamber of Secrets. They then spent an hour in the Room of Requirement, which Voldemort had not known about in his school days and he seemed quite excited about it, though he didn't show Ron and Hermione that. Ron was convinced Ginny might have tried to use it and got stuck inside. 

But after trying out every room they knew the Room of Requirement could produce, Ron was forced to conclude Ginny hadn't got trapped inside. When they encountered the large storage hall, Voldemort collected the Half-Blood Prince's book which Harry had hidden there in his sixth year, saying Snape probably wanted it back. 

They parted ways then, and Voldemort went down to the dungeons to see Snape. 

"I have a present for you, Severus." Voldemort handed Snape his book. "Harry had it hidden away. I thought you'd like it back."

"Thank you." Snape skimmed through the book, and he seemed pleased with it. He carefully placed it on one of the many bookshelves in his sitting room, and looked at Voldemort. "How is the boy? Still moping about?"

Voldemort sighed. "Yes. Harry has been unresponsive of late."

"Perhaps I can draw him out," Snape said with a half-smile. 

"Give it your best." Voldemort returned control to Harry for the first time in days, and Harry was unprepared to suddenly feel his legs again. He sagged and caught himself just in time on the headrest of a chair. 

"Mr Potter," Snape said. He sat down and conjured a cup of tea for himself. After some consideration, Harry sat down as well, but he didn't look at Snape. "You remind me of your late godfather."

That made Harry looked up. 

"Yes, it seems you share a few traits with Sirius Black. He, too, was an absolute master of moping about whenever things did not go his way."

"Don't," Harry whispered. He couldn't deal with Snape's spiteful tongue now. 

"Dumbledore offered to keep him safe, and what did Black do? He complained and drank and made a complete nuisance of himself. The whole Order risked their lives for him, protected him, and all Black did was get himself killed. Of course, as he was completely useless – I have it on good authority he made a lousy godfather as well and thought of you as James only – so the Order was better off without him anyway."

"Don't you dare talk about Sirius that way!" Harry was up on his feet in a second and threw himself at Snape. Snape's tea cup went flying and Harry curled one hand around Snape's throat. "Sirius was a good godfather and he wasn't useless, you bastard!"

Snape gave Harry a satisfied sneer. "There you are, Mr Potter. Welcome back."

Harry felt the anger drain away and he released Snape's throat. He was straddling Snape, he realized, and he made to get up, but Snape caught both his wrists. 

"Is it guilt that is eating you, Potter?"

Glancing down, Harry didn't say anything. 

"Is the idea of being partially responsible for Miss Weasley's death what is depressing you?" Snape pulled Harry closer until their noses almost touched. "If that is the case, I must admit I'm surprised. After all, you have experience in the matter. It was your fault your godfather got killed. Had you not rushed off to the Ministry as you did, your godfather would still be alive today."

Harry wanted to punch Snape, but Snape held his arms still, so Harry squirmed on Snape's lap and kicked against the chair, and all the while Snape smiled at him. 

"I daresay you're even partially responsible for Dumbledore's death. After all, you were there and yet you did nothing to aid him."

"You killed Dumbledore, you fucking bastard!" Harry drew back to slam his head against Snape's, but Snape pulled him closer yet again, and this time their noses were touching. 

"Yes, Potter, I killed Dumbledore, and I actually liked the senile old coot. I cast the Killing Curse on him, at his own request, and I was far from enjoying it. And yet you do not see me wishing to die or hiding like a coward!"

"I'm not a coward," Harry whispered. 

"And yet you have been acting like one all week." 

Harry glanced down, touching his forehead against Snape's. "They don't know what happened."

"Who is 'they'?"

"Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys. They don't know Ginny's dead, and I can't tell them, and I hate that. How can I look at them while I know and they don't. How can I act like nothing is wrong when no one knows what really happened?"

Snape released one of Harry's wrists, placed a finger under his chin and tilted his head up until Harry met his eyes. "I know, Mr Potter. The Dark Lord knows. You are not the only one."

"Yeah, but -- "

"You've been keeping a much bigger secret for the last couple of months, and you didn't allow that to destroy you, am I correct?" 

Harry considered that for a moment. "Yeah."

"Then it seems quite silly that one more secret, no matter how dire, should have you giving up on your own life."

"Maybe."

"Try again," Snape said. He was smiling again. 

"Yeah, if you put it like that." Harry drew back a little so he could look into Snape's eyes. They were so black, and Harry had always thought of them as cold, but they weren't now. They burned with whatever Harry was lacking at that moment, and he leaned closer, his lips pressing against Snape's, hoping to catch some of that fire for himself.

Snape returned the kiss, and it was comforting and pleasant, with slow swipes of their tongues, and Harry's chest warmed and his belly tingled. 

"Later," Snape said. He pressed one more kiss against Harry's lips, and eased him off his lap. "We have a potion to attend to now."

"All right," Harry said. He realized he was feeling disappointed with Snape's dismissal. It was good to feel something again.

*--*--*

"I believe this is it," Snape said, as they stood leaning over a cauldron. The potion inside was a deep bronze, and it looked as if it wanted to swirl, but the tiny ripples died down almost as soon as they appeared.

"Yes, I think so, too." Voldemort gave Snape a satisfied smile. "There is only one way to test it."

"We're going to steal the vessel?" Harry asked. Snape raised an eyebrow at that.

"We are going to take from Muggles what rightfully belongs to wizards," Voldemort said. 

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and that's called stealing in my book." He felt no real annoyance, though, since he'd known of these plans for quite some time. 

"Will you be needing my assistance?" Snape asked, as he extinguished the flames beneath the cauldron. 

"No, Harry and I will handle this. You can serve as our alibi this evening."

"Certainly."

"It is almost dinner time. I suggest we get something to eat, Harry," Voldemort said. "After that, we'll get the vessel."

"All right." Harry wondered if Voldemort was going to take control over him again. He'd allowed Harry control all day, ever since his little chat with Snape.

_"You must once again stand on your own two legs, Harry. If everything goes to plan, I won't be around much longer to hold you up."_

Harry nodded and glanced at Snape. He was unsure what to say to him. After Snape had shook him from his depression earlier, he'd been his usual self, which meant plenty of vile comments. But somehow, it had been just what Harry needed; Snape treating him like he'd always treated him. 

"I'll see you later," Harry said to Snape, who replied with a curt nod. Harry gave him an uncertain smile, and left Snape's private workroom. Ron and Hermione would be in the Great Hall, and Harry wasn't sure if he could face them yet. 

_"You are ready to face them. You are a strong young man, Harry. How else would you have robbed me of yet another body?"_

That made Harry smile, even though smiling in itself seemed like an inappropriate thing to do.

But Voldemort was right. As was Snape. Harry had been acting like a coward, and he was strong. He could face his friends. They'd always been there for him, even when things got rough. Hiding away from them now really was a cowardly thing to do.

_"That's my boy."_

"I'm not yours," Harry whispered. "Not yet." 

Voldemort chuckled in a way that sounded like disagreement. 

The Great Hall was packed, and Ron and Hermione sat in their usual places at the Gryffindor table. For a split second Harry considered leaving or begging Voldemort to take over from there. He didn't, though. He walked on, and while his head was not held high, his pace was sure. 

"Hi, Harry," Hermione said, as Harry sat down opposite her. "You look tired."

"I am tired." Harry glanced at Ron, and for the first time that week he noticed Ron looked tired, too. There were dark patches beneath his eyes and his cheeks were pale. "I'm sorry," Harry said. 

Ron looked up at him with a frown. "What for?"

"There are some things I wish I'd done differently." 

_"Be very careful, Harry."_

Of course he was being careful. He wasn't an idiot. But there were some things he needed to say to get them off his chest, and while Ron and Hermione might never understand, he did. 

"I wish I had done a few things differently with Ginny," Harry said, looking from Hermione to Ron. "Looking back, I know I made mistakes. I was thinking of myself, mostly, not of what Ginny might think and do. And I'm really sorry about that."

Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile. "This isn't your -- "

"No." Harry held his hand up to cut Hermione off. "That's how I feel, and I needed to say that."

"It's all right," Ron said. "I know you never meant to hurt her on purpose."

"Yeah," Harry said, staring down at his plate. Ron resumed eating, but Hermione looked at Harry for a little while longer. Harry looked back at her, and for the first time that week he didn't feel like hiding anymore.

*--*--*

After dinner, Harry announced he was going to spend the evening with Snape, and he parted ways with his friends in the Entrance Hall. Once they were gone, Harry slipped outside and walked across the grounds and past the gates to the apparition point. From there, Voldemort apparated them directly to the upper floor of the British Museum. It was dark and deserted, as expected, and Harry cast a Lumos to help find his way around.

Voldemort directed him to a glass display. There stood the food bowl from the fourth dynasty, also known as Sekem's Vessel. It was an odd cross between a ceramic bowl and a flower vase. The sides were rough and decorated with dozens of hieroglyphs, which meant nothing to Harry. 

"There it is," Harry said after a moment of absolute silence, since Voldemort hadn't done or said anything yet. 

_"Yes."_

Harry stared at it for another moment, unsure why Voldemort wasn't spurring into action yet. 

_"I still owe you an answer, I believe."_

"Ah. Yeah." Harry scuffed his shoe against the bottom of the display case. For months he'd been wishing Voldemort out of his head, and now suddenly everything seemed to be moving too fast.

_"Are you still willing to make your deal?"_

Harry thought about that. His first instinct was to say no, not after what had happened to Ginny. But what had happened to Ginny was exactly why he should make the deal, he realized. If he didn't, Voldemort wasn't going anywhere, and everyone Harry knew would be in immediate danger again. More so than before even, since Voldemort knew everything about them now, courtesy of his stay in Harry's mind. 

"When are you going to do the ritual? Tonight?"

 

_"Tomorrow. We'll have all Sunday that way. I suggest we leave for Grimmauld Place first thing in the morning, as we will need privacy."_

"And then if it works, we would leave immediately?"

_"I suggest you pack a few things first, but yes, we would not linger."_

Harry swallowed, and stared at Sekem's Vessel. It was an ugly, old thing, really. He was stalling, he knew, but he felt as if he were selling his soul, even while he knew his soul had been lost many years ago when Voldemort had placed a part of his own inside him, accidentally or not. 

"All right. I'm willing to make that deal."

_"Then I accept. We will leave tomorrow, if the experiment is successful. If not, we carry on as before until I regain my body, and then we'll leave."_

"All right," Harry said. He needed to sit down, as his knees turned to pudding, but Voldemort kept him up and at the same time slammed Harry's elbow against the glass display. Shards of glass fell to the floor around him. 

"You could have used magic for that," Harry said. He was feeling a strange mixture of relief and trepidation, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders but had been placed over his chest.

_"And chance polluting the vessel's magic? Certainly not."_ Voldemort reached inside and grasped the vessel with both hands. A warm tingle of magic ran up Harry's arms. 

_"Do you feel that?"_

"Yeah," Harry said distractedly. He was glancing around, expecting sirens and lights to go off and bars to roll down over the windows, but nothing happened. Apparently a food bowl from the fourth dynasty wasn't worth a modern security system.

_"Such pure magic. You don't find that anymore these days."_ Voldemort sounded breathless, as if he were in awe. It was an amusing thought, Voldemort being in awe of anything, though any kind of amusement still felt wrong to Harry. 

Voldemort wrapped the vessel in Harry's Gryffindor scarf and placed it in Harry's bag. 

"Are we going to see Snape now?"

_"No. I suggest we go straight back to your dormitory and get some sleep. We'll need our energy tomorrow."_

"Ah." Harry frowned. "So we're not seeing Snape again?" Somehow it felt strange to not say goodbye to Snape. 

_"We'll see him tomorrow morning when we collect the potion."_

"All right. So where are we going tomorrow? Egypt?" Harry glanced around the room again at all the mysterious antiquities. 

_"South America."_

"Huh?"

_"The Inca Empire harbored several small wizarding communities. Yet no one has done any proper research on them. We will start in Cusco, Peru, and from there we can visit Machu Picchu, the lost city of the Incas."_

Harry felt rather dumbstruck. 

_"My plan is not to your liking?"_

"No, it is." Harry didn't know whether to smile or frown. "I just never thought I'd ever go to Peru, of all places."

_"I haven't been there before, either. It will be an adventure for us both."_

Harry thought that no matter where they went, living with a corporeal Voldemort was going to be an adventure. 

Voldemort chuckled. _"Come. Let's get back."_ And with a crack, he apparated them to the fields around Hogwarts' grounds.

*~*~*~*~*´

The next morning, Harry told Ron he was sleeping in and to go to breakfast without him. Once the dormitory was empty, Harry got up and threw his belongings in his trunk. He tried not to think that if Voldemort got his body back that day, he wouldn't see Ron and Hermione again.

_"Write them a letter later today. We will owl it from Diagon Alley, where we'll take a port-key."_

"All right," Harry said, though Voldemort's suggestion didn't make him feel any better. Leaving Hogwarts behind, leaving Ron and Hermione, was such a foreign idea, Harry had no place for it in his mind. 

He moved quickly, not wanting to stall. Too many memories were captured in the castle, some good and some very bad. And Harry wanted to get away from those bad memories as fast as he could. 

He shrunk his trunk, stuffed it in his pocket, slung his bag over his shoulder, and made the long trek down to the dungeons. 

Snape was in his office. He'd probably been expecting them. "You have the vessel?"

"Yes," Voldemort said. He accepted the cauldron from Snape, and draped Harry's invisibility cloak over it. "I will let you know if the experiment was successful."

Snape nodded, hands clasped behind his back. He looked reluctant, somehow, but Harry wasn't sure why. "Very well. Good luck."

"Luck is for the powerless, Severus," Voldemort said, and stepped towards the door. "I won't be needing it." 

Harry glanced at Snape one last time, and managed a hurried, "Bye, Professor!" before Voldemort walked out the office.

They wasted no time and went straight towards the apparition point outside the gates, where they apparated to Grimmauld Place. It wasn't until Voldemort placed both the cauldron and Sekem's Vessel on a table in the drawing room that he gave control back to Harry. 

Harry's heart was hammering in his chest. This was it, then. The moment where Voldemort got his body back. Or not, should Snape have made a mistake. A part of Harry still protested the idea of standing idly by while Voldemort performed the ritual, but a larger part of him accepted that there was no getting around it. 

Should Harry try to sabotage things now, he had no doubt Voldemort would go after Ron and Hermione the first chance he got. 

_"Smart boy. Pour the potion inside the vessel."_

Harry did as ordered (though he tried to think of it as requested, really), and watched how the bronze potion started swirling inside the ceramic vessel. 

"Is it supposed to do that?" Harry asked. He'd never seen a potion move like that before all on its own. 

_"Yes. It seems perfect."_

"So now what?" Harry imagined Voldemort would have to incant spell after spell, like they'd done when they'd cast protective magic around the house. 

_"Now you place both hands inside the vessel."_

"Are you sure?" Harry looked at the vessel dubiously, and he remembered Wormtail sobbing on the ground, clutching a bleeding stump to his chest.

Voldemort chuckled. _"You will come to no harm, Harry, I promise you. It is merely a way for you to guide me into the vessel."_

"Okay." Harry still wasn't convinced, but he had no real reason to object since this kind of magic went way over his head. "Now?"

_"Yes."_

"You don't need to perform some ritual first? Just stick my hands in it and that's it?"

_"Yes."_

Harry had no idea why he was stalling. This was his wish come true. Voldemort was moving out. And yet the idea of not having Voldemort inside his head any longer disturbed him. Or perhaps it was the idea of Voldemort regaining his body that was disturbing. Harry really wasn't sure anymore what to think. 

"All right," he said, hovering his hands over the vessel. "So I'm doing it. Now." And he dipped his fingers into the potion, facing away from the vessel, expecting pain and suffering, but the potion felt lukewarm and nothing spectacular happened. 

_"Hold still. I will see you in a moment, my little Horcrux."_

Harry felt something move down his arms, and it left a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The bronze potion turned black where his fingers touched it, and it started swirling harder and harder until it rose into the air like a whirlpool, higher and higher, black turning to bronze, and bronze turning to black. Light shone from within the liquid, which now reached almost as high as the ceiling. The light became brighter and warmer and Harry had to narrow his eyes as not to be blinded. He kept his hands steady inside the vessel; Voldemort hadn't told him to pull away, and since it still wasn't painful, Harry kept perfectly still. 

A loud bang echoed through the room, and the light inside the whirlpool became as bright as the sun. Harry was flung backwards against the couch, and he landed with his face buried in the cushions. He scrambled to his feet. The whirlpool was gone, and there, beside the table on the floor, lay a naked figure. 

Harry stepped closer and reached for his wand. He expected to see Voldemort lying there, skin as white as a skull, red eyes, slits for nostrils. But Voldemort didn't look like Voldemort. He looked like Tom Riddle. 

Harry blinked. Voldemort's eyes were closed, his face turned away from Harry. He looked like he was somewhere in his twenties, and as Harry stared at him a moment longer, he realized this Tom looked exactly like the one Voldemort had let him play with in front of the mirror. 

"Tom?" Harry asked. There was no response, neither inside his head or from the man on the floor, and Harry shuffled a little closer. 

"Can you hear me?" Harry crouched down beside Voldemort. He wasn't moving. It looked like he wasn't even breathing. "Tom? Voldemort?"

Harry poked Voldemort in his ribs with the tip of his wand. 

Nothing. 

Much to Harry's surprise, he was getting worried. He should be rejoicing the idea of Voldemort not waking up, but there were too many questions without answers for that kind of feeling. What would happen to Harry if Voldemort was dead? He was a Horcrux, after all. If Voldemort died now (but how could he, with several Horcruxes still out there?), would Harry die, too?

"Tom? Wake up." Harry reached out and placed his hand against Voldemort's cheek. He felt warm enough. Harry moved his hand up and touched Voldemort's black hair. It was amazing that an ugly ceramic bowl and a smelly potion with elephant dung, among other things, had produced this body. It looked and felt so real. 

It was real. It just wasn't moving. "Come on, wake up." Harry stroked his hand down again, brushing his fingers across Voldemort's lips. 

Just as Harry started wondering if he should contact Snape to tell him something went wrong with the ritual, Voldemort stirred. Hazel eyes flew open and stared up at Harry. 

"Hi," Harry said, startled. He dropped his hand at once and sat back. 

"Harry," Voldemort said. He sounded as if he'd just woken up from a particularly good night's sleep. Slowly, he sat up and stared down his own body. 

"You...er...look different," Harry said, though he figured Voldemort would notice that on his own well enough. 

"Now you see why I chose to use Sekem's Vessel." Voldemort looked up and smiled at Harry. "I got to select my new form. And since you seemed to enjoy this body so very much, well..."

Harry's cheeks flushed. Playing with Tom Riddle in the mirror had all been a silly illusion, but now Tom Riddle was sitting here, right in front of him, making suggestive comments. Particular parts of Harry stirred to life with teasing tingles of arousal, while Harry kept telling himself this was Voldemort, his enemy, the bastard who had killed his parents and Ginny. He pushed himself up to his feet and stared at the floor. 

Voldemort got up as well, stretching elaborately. He seemed unconcerned with his nudity in front of Harry. Then again, they'd been intimate before. They'd shared a body for months. That was about as intimate as it could possibly get. 

"Come, let me take a closer look," Voldemort said. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulders and steered him out the room and up the stairs. Harry let him, as he didn't know what else to do. He'd bargained his life away to Voldemort, after all.

"Ah, yes." Voldemort tilted his head as he studied his reflection in the mirror in Harry's room. "This body should do just fine, don't you think?"

"Well," Harry said, as he stared at the poster of the Chudley Cannons beside the wardrobe. "It's a lot less conspicuous than your previous one, sure."

Voldemort chuckled. It sounded exactly like it had in Harry's mind, and it still warmed his insides. Voldemort ran his hands from his face down his throat, and across his chest. He let them linger over his penis and testicles, and finally stroked his thighs.

And Harry watched, mesmerized. He didn't want to look, but it was hard not to when the subject of most of his fantasies stood not three feet away from him. Harry once again reminded himself this was Voldemort. Evil, insane Voldemort. Naked, handsome Voldemort. 

No. Harry shook his head, eyes closed. He didn't want to think of Voldemort in that way. Before, Tom Riddle had been nothing but an illusion in a mirror. Now, Tom Riddle was Voldemort. Of course, Tom and Voldemort had always been the same person, Harry knew that, but it had never been more clear to him than at that exact moment. 

"There is no shame in wanting something, Harry." Voldemort sounded very close, and as Harry opened his eyes he saw Voldemort standing right in front of him, their bodies barely an inch apart. Harry looked up at Voldemort's hazel eyes and noticed his devious smile. 

Voldemort leaned his head down to kiss Harry, but Harry turned his face away. "No. I can't."

"Come now, my little Horcrux." Voldemort brushed his lips across Harry's cheek down to his throat. "After everything we've done together?" A slick tongue licked up to Harry's ear. "After all the times you touched yourself watching me in the mirror?" Teeth nipped at Harry's earlobe. "After all the times we fucked Severus together?" Wet lips closed around Harry's earlobe and suckled for a second. "After all the times you let me pleasure you?"

Harry groaned, and placed a hand against Voldemort's chest to push him away. But his strength abandoned him, and he sagged against Voldemort's naked body. 

Voldemort kissed his way towards Harry's mouth, and whispered against his lips, "I have dreamed about this."

Despite his best efforts not to get aroused, that admission sent a surge of heat towards his groin, and Harry closed the minuscule gap between their mouths. Voldemort's lips (or were they Tom's lips?) felt soft, yet the kiss was anything but gentle. Voldemort took control in a way Snape never did, and Harry surrendered, because he had no reason to fight anymore. 

"You are mine," Voldemort said, and licked the tip of his tongue across Harry's lips. "You are a part of me. You always will be."

Harry didn't say anything, as he didn't want to admit Voldemort was probably right. He pressed first his lips and then the rest of him against Voldemort, and let the heat inside him burn away the memories of the past week. At least for a little while. 

Voldemort unbuttoned Harry's robes, and they fell to the ground. He pulled Harry's shirt off over his head, taking his glasses with them. Trousers, pants, socks and shoes all followed in rapid succession, and Harry slid his arms around Voldemort's neck, naked skin against naked skin. He kissed Voldemort's throat, and Voldemort ran his hands across Harry's back and cupped his arse.

"You're going to...er..." Harry buried his nose against Voldemort's throat. 

"Fuck you? Yes." Voldemort chased Harry's mouth and captured it with his own.

The idea of letting Voldemort fuck him was a little daunting, yet at the same time Harry felt the heat inside him grow. He'd enjoyed Voldemort pushing his fingers up his arse after his initial reluctance. And Snape always seemed to like Harry thrusting his cock in his arse. It couldn't be that bad. 

"You will enjoy it, I'll make sure of that," Voldemort said. He pressed one more kiss against Harry's lips and then pushed him onto the bed. He followed Harry down, spreading Harry's legs as he went. Closing his eyes, Harry groaned at the feeling of hands touching his thighs and lips kissing their way up his chest. 

Perhaps he shouldn't think this was Voldemort – insane, evil, murdering _Voldemort_ \-- but instead think of it as sex with a random, handsome bloke. Fingers brushed against his pucker, and somehow it felt like defeat, letting Voldemort (no, don't think that!) touch him there. And yet Harry couldn't stop, no matter this was his enemy in the flesh. 

His life belonged to Voldemort now. Handing over his body seemed like such a small sacrifice to make after that. 

His life for the life of his friends and all the people in Britain. Not such a bad deal at all. 

Harry arched his back when slick fingers pushed inside him. He cracked his eyes open and saw Voldemort holding his wand, and the flutter of nervousness that followed only added to his arousal. He felt full, and yet he wanted more. He bucked his hips, urging Voldemort on. It still was a strange thought, to enjoy taking something up his arse, but his body didn't lie; it felt so fucking good. 

"Relax, Harry," Voldemort said, leaning down so his face hovered above Harry's. "You are mine. Let me show you."

Harry nodded, and sucked in a sharp breath when Voldemort's fingers slipped from his arse. He knew what was coming next – oh God, yes, _there_. Voldemort's cock pushed inside, brushing across that little spot and making Harry's toes curl. 

"Yes, very good," Voldemort said. He sounded breathless. Harry didn't think he could speak at that moment, even if he tried. Voldemort hooked his arms behind Harry's knees and pulled them up, sliding into Harry deeper with a slow thrust of his hips. 

"How is that? All right?"

Harry gasped something that sounded like a 'yes' and bared his throat. Voldemort lowered his head and licked and bit at Harry's offering. Voldemort was inside him, different than before, but better. This felt far better than hearing voices in his head, Harry decided. He wrapped his arms around Voldemort's shoulders and pulled him even closer. 

Voldemort kept his thrusts slow and deep, and every time he pushed back inside, Harry let out a strangled moan. Voldemort was fucking him. That thought alone was disturbing, but combined with the feeling of a hard cock sliding in and out of him, it was exhilarating. He could definitely understand why Snape liked this so much. 

"A little faster now, yes?" Voldemort's narrowed eyes glinted with something Harry couldn't identify. Pleasure? Arousal? Triumph? Whatever it was, it mesmerized Harry, and he bucked his hips to say 'yes, do whatever you like'. Voldemort picked up pace, and his quick thrusts provided a marvelous friction against Harry's trapped cock. 

He was going to come soon, he knew. He wanted to come, as the heat inside him reached unbearable heights. He buried his nose against Voldemort's hair and inhaled. Voldemort smelled strange. Masculine, yes, but there was something stronger underneath. Magic, perhaps. Yeah, Voldemort smelled like magic, and it made Harry's nose twitch and his skin tingle, and he was so close now. 

Voldemort made little sounds as he thrust harder and harder, not as loud as Harry's panted breaths. Close, very close now, and Harry clawed at Voldemort's shoulders. If he just went a little harder and a little deeper, and _yes_...

Groaning, Harry came with slick spurts between their bodies. Voldemort thrust in a way that prolonged the thick waves of pleasure, until breathing became hard and the friction on his spent prick was too much. 

Voldemort found Harry's mouth, and kissed him with rough strokes of his tongue. A deep groan, and Voldemort's body stilled, his twitching cock buried deep inside Harry.

"My Harry," Voldemort whispered, slowing his thrusts down and down until they both lay still. 

Harry looked into Voldemort's eyes and smiled. He didn't know what else to do. The aftermath of his orgasm, the feeling of release and bliss made it impossible to think of horrible things. Voldemort had fucked him. It had been very good. That was enough for now. 

Gently, Voldemort slipped out of Harry and rolled them both on their sides, Harry pulled closely against him. 

It was a weird thought to cuddle in Voldemort's arms, but it didn't feel unpleasant. Harry closed his eyes, and suddenly realized he was free to think what he wanted for the first time in months. No more worrying about Voldemort overhearing anything. He could think about killing Voldemort. He could plot and scheme. He might do that, later, when he wasn't feeling as exhausted.

*--*--*

Harry woke up to a pair of hazel eyes watching him. He was so used to hearing Voldemort's voice in his head first thing in the morning, it was very strange to see Voldemort instead. And not just see; Harry was lying against him, his arm draped across Voldemort's chest.

He smacked his lips and tried to sit up. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Voldemort had an arm wrapped around Harry's shoulders and pulled him a little closer. "It's only just midday. We still have plenty of time to pack and catch a port-key."

"I don't like port-keys," Harry said, and then remembered why. "That's your fault, actually."

A smile appeared on Voldemort's face, but it didn't make him look any kinder. "Oh, I think we shouldn't break with our tradition of using port-keys whenever you help me get a body."

Sighing, Harry let his head fall to Voldemort's chest. He wasn't in the mood for silly jokes now. He wasn't even sure if he'd ever be in the mood for that again. He rested his chin on Voldemort and looked up at his face. 

"You killed my parents. You killed Ginny."

"Yes," Voldemort said, and pressed a kiss on Harry's forehead. "I did."

"I will never forgive you for that."

"I don't expect you to." 

"Right." Harry swallowed. "Just as long as that's clear."

"Crystal." Voldemort sounded a tad mocking, but Harry didn't expect him to actually care about what Harry felt. He knew that would be a very stupid thing to do. "Come," Voldemort said, and eased Harry up. "It's time to go."

They showered together, but it wasn't as strange as Harry might have expected. After all, he'd showered with Voldemort just about every day for the last few months. The only difference now was that Voldemort took up more space in the shower stall. Plus, the view was better. 

Harry kept sneaking glances at Voldemort's brand-new naked body as he washed his hair and ran a bar of soap across his skin. 

"I liked it," Harry said, and gestured between them. "The...er...sex."

"Good. I liked it, too." Voldemort caught Harry's face with his hands and gave him a long, deep kiss that made Harry's heart pound in his chest. 

Should he enjoy kissing and touching Voldemort? Probably not. But it made things between them a lot easier, if he could enjoy at least something about their arrangement. Harry wasn't so stupid to think he should play the part of martyr now that he'd signed his life away. 

They dried off quickly, and Voldemort used Harry's toothbrush, which seemed like such a funny thing to do. Voldemort noticed his smile and returned it. Two enemies smiling at each other over the bathroom sink. Things couldn't possibly get anymore surreal than that, Harry mused. 

Harry got dressed in his usual attire, while Voldemort went through Harry's wardrobe and selected plain, black robes. He adjusted the size with Harry's wand, since he was taller and broader in the shoulders than Harry. 

The sight of Voldemort using his wand so casually tied Harry's stomach into a tight knot. He tried not to stare, but Voldemort noticed it anyway. 

"You will get your wand back later. I have one stashed away somewhere for emergencies. We'll pick it up before we go to Diagon Alley."

"All right," Harry said. He wasn't worried Voldemort was going to hurt him with his wand, but he wasn't sure what Voldemort might do if they ran into anyone else. 

Voldemort confiscated and adjusted a pair of Harry's boxers as well, and then frowned at Harry's shoe collection: three pairs of trainers. Harry started snickering, because the idea of Voldemort wearing trainers was so funny it broke through his morose state. 

"Honestly," Voldemort said, and charmed a pair black before adjusting their size. "We will get you some proper footwear before we leave the country."

"I like trainers," Harry said, still laughing. 

"Then we will get me something proper to wear." Sighing, Voldemort sat down on the edge of the bed, a disdainful sneer on his face. 

"Do you have any money?" Harry asked, suddenly realizing they had to live off something, and Voldemort didn't seem like the type to get a job somewhere to pay the bills. 

"Plenty."

"Oh. Me too. Do I need to empty my Gringott's vault before we leave?"

Voldemort stared at him. "There is still so much you need to learn about our world, isn't there? You can access your vault from around the world by use of local Gringott's offices."

Harry shrugged. He checked the bedside tables and the wardrobe, deposited a few more things in his trunk, and then concluded that he was packed and ready to go. Voldemort shrank his trunk, and Harry looked up at him expectantly. Voldemort nodded, and waved him towards the door. 

"You need a new name," Harry said, as they were halfway down the stairs. "You can't go around being Lord Voldemort anymore. People will notice."

Voldemort snorted. 

"Tom Riddle is -- "

"I am not using my Muggle father's name."

"I was going to say Tom Riddle's too infamous as well in certain circles," Harry said. He frowned at Voldemort as they walked through the hallway down to the kitchen. "And if you hate that name so much, why did you use those exact letters to make a new name with?"

Voldemort gave him an incredulous look, and Harry quickly ducked inside the kitchen, grinning. "You do need a new name."

"I will think of something." Voldemort opened a drawer and handed Harry parchment and quill. "Go write your friends a farewell letter. I will settle things with Severus in the meantime."

Harry stared at the parchment and thought about all the things he needed to tell Ron and Hermione. He'd ask Hermione to look after Hedwig, as she didn't have an owl of herself. He'd just tell them he needed time for himself and wanted to see something of the world, which wasn't a lie, exactly. 

From the corner of his eye he saw Voldemort grab some floo-powder and throw it into the fireplace. "Severus Snape's Hogwarts quarters!" And with a flash of green flames he was gone. 

Harry looked back at his parchment, his stomach tight with nerves about telling Ron and Hermione he was leaving. But was that all he was nervous about? Harry looked up at the fireplace again. What had Voldemort said? He needed to settle things with Snape. What things?

_You're never going to stop, are you?_ he heard himself say in his memory of the dreadful events in the Chamber of Secrets. 

_Fuck!_ Voldemort wasn't going to settle things with Snape, he was going to --

Harry almost fell out of his chair as he made a dash for the fireplace. He threw in floo-powder and shouted out his destination, meanwhile thinking he was so fucking stupid for letting Voldemort keep his wand. 

He tumbled out of the fireplace and onto Snape's rug. The sitting room looked like a disaster area with upturned furniture, parchment everywhere, and scorch marks on the walls. And in the middle stood Voldemort, wand aimed at Snape, who stood against one of the bookcases, appearing wandless. 

"No!" Harry flung himself at Voldemort, just when the Killing Curse fell from Voldemort's lips. He knocked against Voldemort's arm, and a flash of green light exploded against the ceiling. 

"Harry, do not anger me!"

"You fucking bastard!" Harry positioned himself between Voldemort and Snape, both hands curled around Voldemort's wand arm. "Why the hell do you want to kill him now?"

"He is a liability. He knows too much."

"He's under a vow!" Harry glanced at Snape across his shoulder. Snape looked paler than usual, but seemed fine enough. 

Snape sneered at him. "This is just what I need. Another Potter running to my rescue."

"Shut up and let me do this," Harry said, looking back at Voldemort. 

"The vow only applied to my previous state, Harry. Snape knows this, I'm sure, and the minute we walk out of here, he will be in touch with a few of Dumbledore's old friends."

Harry gaped between Voldemort and Snape. He wasn't sure what to do. He didn't have a wand, and he could tell Voldemort's patience with him was wearing thin. He didn't want Snape to die. Snape had helped them. Snape had let Harry fuck him. Snape had been...useful. 

That was it. 

"We don't have to kill him," Harry said, tugging on Voldemort's arm, trying to get him to lower it. "We could take him with us. He's useful."

For the first time, Voldemort glanced down at Harry. "And let him stab me in my back yet again?"

Harry shook his head. "He could take a new vow."

"Potter." That was Snape, and Harry turned to look at him. "I have no desire to spend the rest of my life as the Dark Lord's servant." He gave Harry a hard stare. "I'd rather he kill me now."

Voldemort chuckled, and pulled to get Harry's hands off his arm. 

"No!" Harry said. He wasn't going to get Snape killed. He'd seen enough death. "You wouldn't be his servant. I'm not his servant. I'm just his...something. A companion."

"I do not need another companion," Voldemort said. 

"But he's useful! I don't know anything. I'm just there to be your Horcrux. Snape's actually smart and he knows potions and Dark Arts." He glanced at Snape again. "We're going to Peru to study ancient magic at Pricka Choochoo. You'd like that, too."

"Machu Picchu," Voldemort said. He stared at Snape, waiting for his reply. Snape frowned. He didn't seem convinced yet. 

"You'd only have to vow not to kill him," Harry said, desperate to get Snape to agree with this. He would not see Snape dead. "You wouldn't have to obey him all the time. I'm not going to."

Arching an eyebrow, Voldemort looked at Harry. 

"Well, no," Harry said, shrugging. "I'm not your servant. That wasn't part of the deal."

Voldemort gave a little sniff, but he still didn't lower his wand.

"Come on," Harry said to Snape. "It wouldn't be so bad, just the three of us somewhere in South America. I bet they have lots of neat potions ingredients there you could collect and experiment with." He tugged on Voldemort's arm again. "And you'd only have to promise not to treat him as a servant. No ordering him around, and no punishing him with Unforgivables. And when I get on your nerves, you can tell me to go pester him for a while."

Snape snorted at that and shook his head. "It is up to the Dark Lord at this point."

"As long as Severus is willing to take a new vow."

"He is!" Harry said, before Snape could even reply. "All right?" he asked, glancing at Snape again. His neck was getting sore from craning it back and forth. 

Sighing, Snape nodded. "Peru?"

"It's not Britain," Harry said, grinning. "He picked it."

"I suspected as much." Snape inhaled a deep breath. "I will take a new vow if the Dark Lord does the same."

"Certainly not!" Voldemort narrowed his eyes. 

"If I am to vow not to kill you, you will vow not to kill me." 

"It's a fair deal," Harry said, offering Voldemort an encouraging smile. "I'd take it, if I were you."

"You are not me, Harry."

"I am a part of you. So my opinion does count for something." 

Voldemort studied Harry's face for a moment. "You want Snape to live? Are you willing to take a vow of your own for that?"

"A vow not to kill you?" Harry asked. He wasn't sure if he liked that idea. 

"Yes. Vows all around," Voldemort said. "I am feeling generous today."

"So we'd all vow not to kill each other?" Harry worried his lip. He was trying to see the advantages of it. Snape would live, that was one. And Voldemort would never be able to kill Harry in a fit of rage, that was two. They'd all live. No one would die. It seemed like a deal worth making. "All right."

"In that case, I accept," Snape said. He pushed himself away from the bookcase, just as Voldemort finally lowered his wand. 

"Yours has rolled under the couch, Severus," Voldemort said, his tone friendly, as though he hadn't just cast a Killing Curse at Snape. 

"Yes, I noticed." Snape knelt and fished his wand out from under the couch. "When are we leaving?"

"As soon as you pack whatever belongings you want to take with you."

"My clothes, my private potions stock, and these books."

Voldemort nodded, transfigured two chairs into trunks, and gave the command 'pack'. Books flew from the shelves, stacking themselves neatly inside the trunks. 

Harry released a deep sigh. He'd never understand the relationship between Voldemort and Snape. One moment, they were trying to kill each other, and the next, they were being helpful to each other. Well, as long as there was no killing, Harry wasn't complaining. 

"This is actually a really good turn of events," he said. Both Voldemort and Snape glanced at him. "Snape coming with us, I mean. Now I have a better reason for leaving, and for my friends not to come find me. We can say me and Snape eloped or something."

Snape looked like he'd just swallowed a lemon, and Voldemort laughed, shaking his head in obvious amusement. 

"It is not a bad plan, Severus," Voldemort said. 

"Bad, no," Snape said, sneering. "Preposterous, yes. But tell your friends what you will, Potter. I'd rather they think we're eloping then have them visit and discover the identity of your new boyfriend."

Harry imagined the bloodbath that would surely follow should Ron and Hermione ever discover he was living with Voldemort. Not just living with him, but shagging him as well. 

"Yeah," he said with a shudder. "I'm sure your pleasant personality will ward off any curiosity on their part." 

Snape shot him a nasty stare, but Harry could tell there wasn't much anger behind it. Snape looked too surprised and relieved to still be alive for that. 

"Go write your letter, Harry." Voldemort steered Harry towards Snape's desk. "We will pack in the meantime."

Harry sat down and reached for parchment and quill. How to tell his friends he was leaving? He'd have to lie, and while he hated it, he knew it was in their best interest if they never discovered the truth. He dipped the quill into the ink bottle and started to write. 

 

_Dear Ron and Hermione,_

_I'm sorry to leave like this, but it's better this way. I need to spend some time away from Britain, and Snape feels the same, so we've decided to go see something of the world together._

_I'm not sure when I'll be back, or even if I'll ever come back. I've done my best to fulfill everyone's expectations, and it wasn't always easy. I've made mistakes. I'm trying to do something good now. Good for me, and good for everyone else. The wizarding world can do without me now that Voldemort is gone._

_Not sure where we'll end up, but I'll write to let you know I've arrived safely where ever our destination will be. Don't worry about me, please. I'm all right. I need to do this, I hope you can understand that._

_Hermione, I'm giving Hedwig to you. Please take good care of her, and tell her I'm sorry to leave her behind. Ron, I'm taking my Firebolt with me. Sorry, mate. Please take good care of Hermione. Give my best to your family, and tell your parents I'm sorry for the way I treated Ginny._

_I'll be fine. Snape's with me, and he won't let me get into too much trouble._

_Your friend,_

_Harry_

 

Sighing, he leaned back and read the letter over. He startled when a hand touched his shoulder. Voldemort was standing behind him. 

"Very good, Harry." He pressed a kiss to Harry's temple. "Come, we're done packing. It is time to take our vows before we leave."

"Yeah." Harry folded the parchment and tucked it in his pocket. He got up and accepted his wand when Voldemort offered it to him. He stood between Voldemort and Snape, and once they clasped their hands, Harry aimed his wand at them. 

It wouldn't be a perfect life, he knew. It certainly wasn't the life he'd envisioned for himself. Traveling the world with Voldemort and Snape, two people who had been his enemies for as long as he could remember. And yet Harry knew it could have been a whole lot worse.

Not a perfect life, but it would do.

*--*--*

_Epilogue_

 

The house they rented in Cusco was small, but comfortable. Voldemort saw to that, as did Snape. Harry learned a lot about household magic. 

They posed as Muggle scholars from Oxford, there to study the lost city of the Incas. Well, Voldemort and Snape posed as scholars. Harry was their research assistant, since they claimed he was still too young to be a scholar. Harry suspected foul play, but decided not to complain. He'd learned to pick his battles. 

Voldemort behaved himself reasonably well, though he still treated every Muggle he met with arrogance and contempt. Snape wasn't much better when it came to it. Harry heard a group of American researchers call them 'those fucking snobs from Europe' once, and he'd wisely not mentioned that to Voldemort. He'd learned when to keep his mouth shut. 

There had only been one incident so far, when one of the American researchers had asked them suspiciously how they managed to get up the mountain so damned quickly every day, while it took everyone else hours by bus to get there. Snape had altered the man's memory while Harry had distracted Voldemort so he didn't have time to cast a Killing Curse. Harry learned he and Snape made a good team when it came to keeping their wild dragon under control. 

They argued. They bickered. They cursed. They threw tantrums. Voldemort threatened Harry and Snape with the Cruciatus Curse at least twice a week, but he never cast it. Harry learned that make-up sex was the best thing ever invented (well, except for Quidditch). 

Harry wrote Ron and Hermione every other week, telling them a few random things about his new life, though he never gave away his exact location. They sent him letters back through an anonymous Muggle mail service. They were doing fine, though they worried about Ginny as she'd still not been found. Harry learned that the knowledge that his remaining friends were safe was a great medicine against guilt and grief. 

Harry hated all those bloody tourists with their flashing cameras and inane questions that visited Machu Picchu day after day. Voldemort did, too. As did Snape. Harry learned that even enemies could have something in common. 

Harry's Spanish sucked. Snape wasn't much better at it, though he claimed otherwise. Voldemort learned to speak it fluently in just three weeks. After having ordered testicles one night (much to Snape's and Voldemort's amusement), Harry learned it was best not to be stubborn every minute of the day and let Voldemort order whenever they ate in a local restaurant. 

Voldemort discovered a lot about the magic used by the wizarding Inca communities. It was a slow process of studying ruins, reading Muggle books, research and translating, but Voldemort's enthusiasm for the subject was so infectious, Harry soon stopped messing about and actively involved himself in the process. Harry learned that uncovering ancient magic, which had been lost for generations, and experimenting with it was really very interesting. 

They had sex often, in various combinations, and the only rule seemed to be that Voldemort only topped and never bottomed. Harry enjoyed both, as did Snape, so there was never any problem finding a pleasant position for all three of them, though Harry learned that he liked being in the middle best.

One evening, after a particularly energetic shag (which had been preceded by a particularly nasty argument), Harry lay slick with sweat and other things between Voldemort and Snape. 

Voldemort pressed a lazy kiss against Harry's lips, and rolled onto his back, eyes closed. Harry stared at him for a while until Voldemort's breathing deepened. 

"I think he's asleep," he whispered. 

"Hmm." Snape had his eyes closed. "If you'd keep your mouth shut, I'd be asleep as well."

Harry grinned. "I'm hungry. Are there any of those chocolate biscuits left?"

"No. He ate them all." Snape never called Voldemort by his name, not his old one nor his new one (Voldemort's Muggle passport said Joseph Taylor, after much, _much_ deliberation of what constituted a good, anonymous Muggle name). Harry still thought of him as Voldemort, and called him Tom in private. 

"He doesn't even like chocolate. You ate them all, didn't you?" Harry glared at Snape, but seeing that Snape had his eyes closed, it did him little good. 

"It must have been the house-elf," Snape said, smirking. 

"We don't have a house-elf, you bastard." Harry crossed his arms and stared up at the ceiling. He felt another argument brewing, and he wondered if Snape and Voldemort were up for another round of sex afterward. 

"Potter." Snape never called Harry by his first name, not even during or right after sex. Harry didn't mind. He was used to it. "You have his memories, yes?"

"Yeah." Harry glanced at Snape, wondering what he was getting at. 

"I am merely wondering why you never accessed them to retrieve certain information."

"What information?"

Snape opened his eyes and glanced at Harry. "About certain parts of him."

"Oh." Harry suspected Snape meant the Horcruxes. It was true, of course. He could have called up those memories and he'd have known if Voldemort was lying about whether or not Harry was the last Horcrux. It had been impossible to do when Voldemort had still been in his head, and then things had moved so fast and Harry had been too busy not getting anyone else killed, he hadn't thought of it. 

And now he couldn't kill Voldemort. The vow saw to that. 

He gave Snape an uncertain smile. "It doesn't matter now, anyway. We're here, we're alive, and he's not killing anyone." Snape inclined his head at that. 

Beside Harry, Voldemort stirred. A slow smile crept onto his face as he turned on his side, draping an arm over Harry's chest. He nuzzled the hair above Harry's ear and whispered, "That's my little Horcrux."

 

** The End **


End file.
